Things That Go Whump in the Night
by T'Pring
Summary: When John is stung by a venomous predator, Teyla must fight her own insecurities to lead her team and negotiate the strange customs of the natives they must depend on to treat him. Can she pull John through the ordeal, or will the venom overwhelm him...
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I offer this little ditty up as pure whump indulgence (extra frosting, hold the cake). Teyla gets her chance to Sheppard-watch this time, completing a of trio of stories that began long, long ago with shEppard equals MCscrewed. _

_I believe the word you're looking for is: "gratuitous"_

* * *

Teyla tucked her hair behind an ear to keep the tickling strands away from her face, and shifted her shoulders under her heavy tactical vest. A few paces ahead of her on the narrow dirt path, she watched John perform a similar shimmy, settling his own vest after having just stripped off his jacket in favor of the short-sleeved, black uniform shirt underneath. The jacket was tied around his waist by the sleeves which told Teyla that he expected to put it on again soon. She looked up through the leafy canopy and agreed with his assessment; it was mid-evening and once the sun dipped a bit lower, the path they followed would cool quickly and they would be grateful for the warmth of their exertions. At the moment though, the temperate forest around them was hot and muggy with the lingering humidity of a late morning shower, made even stickier when the sun burned through about the time they'd left the Dolsan village an hour ago. 

"Remind me again why we're walking?" John groused, swiping an arm across his brow and Teyla frowned a bit at the complaint she would have expected instead from Rodney. The scientist was plodding along a few steps behind Ronon who walked point, wiping his own face yet remaining resignedly quiet.

Teyla felt the weariness among her team like a lead blanket weighing down every step, and yet, she knew that the burden they all carried was far more than the fatigue of a long walk and a restless night among strangers. Since Atlantis had settled in the waters of their new planet and Colonel Carter had assumed command of the city, they had had little chance to acclimate, to rest in the changes thrust upon them. It was unsettling, and upsetting. So much had changed and was changing, and she felt all of them struggling to adjust. A simple mission, as this had been, would normally have been refreshing, a vacation almost. But today, they were all simply desperate to get home.

"Anyone? Hello? Idle conversation to kill the time people?"

Teyla raised her eyebrows at the petulance in John's voice and answered the original question that she had assumed was rhetorical, "The Dolsan village is 10 miles from the 'gate. We decided that a jumper would alarm the villagers unnecessarily and to approach them on foot. That is why we're walking." She found herself more amused than annoyed at John's irritated boredom, and the hint of laughter in her tone brought a slight improvement to his posture.

"That and the Giant Sequoia that decided to take a nosedive onto the Stargate," Rodney chimed in, his voice equal parts disgust at the inconvenience, and pleasure at finally getting an invitation to vent. "There's no way a jumper could get through that tangle."

"So, what? We've got no chainsaws on Atlantis?" retorted John, as if Rodney was arguing with him. 

Teyla was still watching John, a small, niggling worry surfacing as she mused on the mood of her team. Of all of them, John had seemed the strongest, the most secure in weathering the storms around them these difficult past months. He simply kept doing what he had to do, and pulled others through on the strength of his conviction that they _would_ survive; that things would get better. And he had managed to do it in that unique, charmingly lazy John Sheppard way. That is, she realized in a moment of sudden intuition, until a few weeks ago when the crystal entity had taken his dreams and turned them against him.

Ever since they had shocked the creature back into its crystal home and returned it to its native planet, John had just seemed distant and perhaps a little bit irritable. Not overtly so, and not to the point of concern, but lately she had felt him weighted with some burden she didn't quite understand, at least not yet. Teyla shuddered in horror at the memory of her own infected nightmares, and she forced down caustic fury at the creature that had taken her friend and counselor, Kate, from her. She found herself looking to John, as had become unconscious habit, for the reassurance of his comforting optimism.

He was scrubbing the top of his head furiously in the way she knew he liked to make the fluffy spikes on his head stay carefully untidy, and she chuckled softly at the familiar gesture of Sheppard vanity. Whatever burden the experience had laid upon him, John would work it through; of this Teyla was certain. She had long guessed that John had challenges and losses in his past that, like her, had hardened him - had prepared him for the challenges of his life on Atlantis. And she would be nearby if he needed someone to turn to, as he was for her. Not that he ever had done so before...

"Chainsaws are for you barbarian-types. I tried to talk Zelenka into calibrating a drone to burn a path." Rodney had apparently decided to take on the verbal challenge. 

"And burn down the forest in the process? We barbarian-types actually prefer C4 for blasting obstacles." Teyla recognized a full-blown McKay-Sheppard griping contest brewing and she was casting around in her mind for some other topic of conversation to distract the two when Ronon beat her to it.

"The stew gets burned if you're arguing over the fire," he rumbled wisely and Teyla grinned at McKay's exaggerated shrug of annoyance.

"And what is _that_ obtuse bit of Satedan folk nonsense supposed to mean?"

"It means: Stop complaining and keep walking." Ronon explained dangerously, and Rodney displayed a rare moment of wisdom himself and changed the subject.

"So did anyone else understand what that Shaman person was going on about as we left? He seemed pretty upset we were leaving."

Sheppard grunted in negation, "No, he wasn't upset that we were leaving, he was warning us about the monsters and beasties in the forest that come out at night and change people into the murderous undead." John paused and cocked his head, "At least I think that's what all the hand waving and maraca shaking was about."

"...monsters?" McKay suddenly looked around in alarm at the lengthening shadows under the trees and there was a hint of a stutter in his voice as he continued, "What kind of monsters exactly are we talking about and shouldn't we have listened to the man?"

John just shrugged, "I got the feeling those people use the monster stories to keep kids at home after dark. They all seemed on the melodramatic side. Probably just exaggeration and metaphor to teach a lesson. There aren't any monsters, McKay." He suddenly slapped the back of his neck and Teyla watched him examine the squashed remains of the offending pest briefly, then flick it off his hand. "There _are _some annoying insects, though..." he groused.

"But most myths have some basis in fact, what if it isn't all exaggeration? Teyla, what do you think?"

Teyla considered the question carefully, grateful at least that they weren't still complaining. "I think that the Dolsans are an unusual community. They avoid the Wraith by living in difficult environments and keeping their villages very, very small. When one camp grows too large, they split and some will leave to find a new home, taking their culture and their stories with them. I believe that their stories keep them connected to their larger community, and that the Shaman are charged with the duty of maintaining a unified culture across all the small camps. That and maintaining the secret of the tea they alone are able to cultivate."

"Ah, yes. _The Tea_," Sheppard intoned dramatically. "Worth a 6 hour round trip walk and a really cold night with a rock for a pillow..." His tone was sarcastic, but he shot Teyla a quirky look that told her he was only teasing. Mostly.

"The Dolsan Tea fetches a high price on many worlds and the Athosians are among the very few who have an established trade relationship with them. I myself negotiated the arrangement many years ago. Besides, Dr. Keller believes the tea may have some interesting analgesic properties. It was wise to initiate a relationship for Atlantis to trade on."

"But what about the monsters?!" Rodney insisted bullishly, more interested in his safety than tea. "Do you think there really are monsters here?"

Teyla sighed, giving up trying to interest her teammates in the reason for their visit. "Yes, Rodney. I think that the Dolsans believe that there really are monsters here." John turned to her slightly in a sidelong look of mischievous appreciation for her choice of phrase that was clearly meant to torture their paranoid friend.

"But...! Oh never mind," Rodney gave up in disgust, recognizing that he was being ganged up on.

"Don't worry, Rodney," John reassured heartily. "I've got all the monster repellent we need." He patted the P-90 swinging freely from its clip on his vest. "And I even saved a few silver bullets if an undead zombie pops onto the path."

"Those are for werewolves."

"Mmmm?" hummed John disinterestedly.

"Silver bullets. Those are for werewolves."

"Oh yeah, right."

"I thought you had to drive a stake through the heart to kill a werewolf?" This time it was Ronon who chimed in hesitantly, testing out his fledgling Earth trivia.

"No, no. A stake is for Vampires, silver bullets for werewolves, and you have to smash the brain to stop a zombie. Seriously, you both need to brush up on your monster killing facts."

"Because we don't have enough real monsters to fight out here." Teyla thought she just barely caught John follow his own comment with a low, "Wraith and replicators and bugs..."

For Teyla's part, she wasn't even sure if the creatures her friends were discussing were real or imaginary; Earth people seemed to enjoy so many different stories and fictional characters. "These werewolves and vampires, they really are creatures from your world?" she asked John curiously.

He shot her a genuine grin, and she was pleased to see the pleasant expression on his face for a change. "Exaggeration and metaphor, Teyla. Exaggeration and metaphor," he said.

The sun seemed to drop quickly over the next fifteen minutes of their hike and Teyla was beginning to realize that they would definitely not reach the 'gate before it was fully dark, especially under the shadow of the forest canopy. The darkness did not frighten her, but the evening gloom did make her feel more tired and sleepy than she otherwise would be. Trying to convince herself that the feeling was misleading - it would be only early afternoon when they stepped back onto Atlantis after all - she concentrated again on watching her friends, as she always did, and on staying alert to danger around them.

Ronon and Rodney were now walking side by side, apparently discussing Vampire stories, Ronon sounding incredulously fascinated that the Earth people could have imagined a creature so similar to the Wraith without actually having ever seen a real one. John had returned to his weary boredom, and a small knot of concern for him seeded itself in Teyla's chest. He rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his head as if relieving tension. Teyla thought he was almost dragging his feet and she made a mental note to swing by his door this evening back on Atlantis and make sure he was resting properly. John would not appreciate the gesture, but he might get some extra rest if he felt he needed to prove the fact to her. Teyla was not above employing trickery to ensure the health of her team!

Even despite her preoccupation with John's moodiness and uncharacteristic weariness, she was still completely taken by surprise when he suddenly stumbled and fell to his knees right in front of her. "John?!"

Her startled query, earned the attention of McKay and Ronon who turned around in equal surprise. Teyla rushed the few steps it took to close the distance between them, but held herself back from reaching for him.

"Tripped!" John blurted out, sounding thoroughly embarrassed. He planted one foot and pushed himself up by his thigh, brushed dirt off his knees and rubbed his neck again in a futile attempt to ignore their attention. When it didn't work, and all three remained staring at him in various states of amusement, he wagged his head and smirked, "Ok. Ha, ha. Laugh at the man when he's down." He waved his arm at the path in disgust and grunted, "Keep movin'. Show's over."

Ronon chuckled and returned to his position on the path without a glance back, but Teyla remained close by and did not miss the slight limp John was clearly pushing through with his first few steps. He had fallen rather hard after all. John seemed determined to appear confident, however, and kept himself several paces ahead as they pressed doggedly onward. Teyla was just starting to relax and was thinking about bringing out her canteen for a drink of water when John stumbled again. He landed on his knees and slid to one side onto his hip, bracing himself with one arm against the ground, the other flung in the air, still futilely seeking for balance.

There was no disputing, this time, that the fall was due to more than rough ground and Teyla quickly crouched at his side to peer into his dazed face. "John, tell me what's wrong," she ordered firmly, informing him with her tone that she would accept no platitudes. She heard Ronon and Rodney gather around, as interested as her in the answer, all of them alert with sudden, worried tension. John Sheppard, of all people, didn't just fall down for no reason.

John just groaned and avoided her gaze, seeming at once both perfectly normal in the attempt to avoid attention and yet abnormally distracted. "I don't know. Feel a little dizzy." He shook his head a bit, as if trying to shake off the sensation, then suddenly winced and grabbed for his neck again.

A frightening thought revealed itself and Teyla sucked in an alarmed breath as she grabbed for John's shirt collar and jerked the fabric down over the vest's stiff edge. Prying his hands off the skin, she felt the fear twist into a knife jab of shock. A tiny white welt at the base of John's neck, just where the first smooth lumps of spine began, was oozing tiny drops of blood. The skin all around the welt, however, was flame red and splotchy in a ragged circle almost as broad as her palm. It felt hot and just slightly puffy to her gently probing fingertips.

Teyla quickly shifted to catch his eyes again, "What kind of insect stung you, John?" Rodney gasped at her question and yanked on John's collar to see the welt for himself. John, however, shook his head again and squinted at her, as if it took all his concentration to focus on her face. "What bit you?" she repeated, earnestly holding his eyes with her own.

John finally nodded and took a deep breath, pushing aside the discomfort he was obviously working through, "I thought it was a mosquito or fly or something. Looked more like a...a scorpion. Tiny scorpion. Don't know how it got there."

McKay was staring in horror at the spreading inflammation on John's neck and exclaimed at his response, "You got stung by a scorpion and you didn't say anything?! Do you know what can happen if you're allergic to the toxin? Anaphylactic shock can kill you in - oh hey. I have an EpiPen. Should I jab him with an EpiPen?!"

Rodney was already frantically digging into the pockets of his vest when John slapped him on the knee, then returned to rubbing his neck in irritation. "It was _tiny_, McKay. And I think if you're allergic to bees, you pretty much know right away. This guy got me - what- 20 minutes ago?" He scrubbed furiously at the obviously painful bite, then sighed as he gave up trying to make it feel better.

"You've been nursing a welt like that for 20 minutes and you didn't say anything?!" The indignation in Rodney's tone was clear, although Teyla was uncertain whether the outrage stemmed from concern for John, or from annoyance at John's ability to tolerate a lot more discomfort than Rodney ever could.

"Look, it didn't really start to bother me until just now, just felt like a fly bite at first and went away. Now it does sting a bit and I feel lightheaded, but can we skip the dramatics and just move on? I'll walk it off."

"You just got stung by a scorpion! You can't walk that kind of thing off!"

"IT WAS TINY!" John bellowed, and then turned to stare at Teyla, the request clear in his expression. _Can we please just drop it?_

Teyla narrowed her eyes and looked at John closely, knowing he would not give up the argument unless she seriously considered the request. His face seemed a bit flushed, but his eyes held no fever, and despite the moment of understandable distraction, he seemed lucid and normal. He was well aware that she was the one most likely to make the call, so he was watching her with equal intensity and she could tell he was trying very hard to appear annoyed rather than ill. She nodded, but shot a warning look at Ronon as she answered him.

"Very well. We are not stopping you from standing, John." The smirk on her lips told him she was merely humoring him and he smirked back, then rolled onto his knees to push up into a lurching stand. He got about halfway up when he suddenly slapped his hands on his thighs, bracing himself. He froze in that position for a heartbeat, then slowly started to pitch forward. Teyla grabbed for one arm, Ronon for the other, both shaking their heads in unamused worry at the expected outcome. John was breathing heavily just from the mild exertion of standing and when more and more of his weight sagged into her grip, she caught Ronon's eye and together they slowly lowered him back to the ground to sit with his head hanging low over his legs and his eyes tightly squeezed shut.

"I, uh, think I'll sit down for a while," John muttered to his knees. He didn't protest any further.

This time when Teyla knelt beside him, she was all business. She felt for John's pulse, frowning a bit when the flutter under her fingertips seemed fast and light, then rested her hand on his forehead, confirming that he held no fever, at least not yet. Knowing he would most likely complain, she nevertheless tilted his chin up and pried open one tightly closed eye. John grunted as expected, but Teyla's insistent concern won out and he held still long enough for her to confirm that his warm hazel eyes were clouded with pain and dizziness, in addition to being slightly dilated. When she was finished with her cursory examination, she sat back on her heels to find Ronon and Rodney watching her closely. John pressed his palms into his eyes and hunched over, his posture expressing the effort of suppressing an obviously increasing discomfort. Teyla rested her hand on his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance and shot a look of concern at Ronon.

"His pulse is elevated and his eyes are dilated. I do not believe he is suffering from an allergic reaction. But that means there was probably venom in the bite that is affecting him systemically in addition to the inflammation around the bite." She spoke hastily, the urgency in her tone apparent.

"So...should I jab him with my EpiPen?"

Teyla shook her head in impatience at Rodney's fascination with the device, "No, Rodney. I do not remember anything in the First Aid training about using adrenaline for treating a venomous bite. It may even be harmful, but I don't really know."

"So he needs a doctor!" Rodney blurted out, his voice roughened with panic although he was otherwise calm, "We have no idea what kind of toxins we're dealing with here, or how severe the effects may become. The systemic reaction may become deadly."

"Agreed, but how do we get him to one?"

"I'll carry him," Ronon volunteered, eager in his worry to do something, to get started.

"It's a two hour hike to the 'gate _without_ lugging deadweight," Rodney pointed out, for once sounding unhappy about pointing out bad news.

"We return to the village, then," Teyla suggested quickly. "It would only take a little more than an hour, and perhaps someone there will know how to treat the sting."

"He needs a _doctor._ Not a witch-doctor Shaman shaking maracas at him!"

"This is their home, Rodney. They are certain to have encountered this before..." Teyla found herself annoyed at the insult she found in Rodney's dismissal of the villagers, then rebuked herself for the petty pride. Rodney was only stressed, and he tended to speak harshly when fear overcame his already limited ability to censor his thoughts. She did, however, maintain her belief that the people who knew best about a world were the people who lived there.

Ronon suddenly covered her hand on John's shoulder with his own, "McKay is right. Those people may be able to help some, but Sheppard needs the real thing. I've...I lost a man under my command on Tasedan to a jungle viper. I won't lose Sheppard that way."

Teyla jerked her surprised gaze at Ronon who returned the look with steady determination, although she could see the fear lurking deep underneath. She nodded firmly, accepting the challenge and sharing the oath. They wouldn't lose John that way. She took a deep breath, realizing that the men were waiting for her recommendation, deferring to her usual role as team medic. She felt the seconds ticking by as she weighed everything she'd learned on Atlantis about first aid and emergency medical treatment for venoms. The more she remembered, the more her concern for John grew as each once passed...

"Ronon, you run for the 'gate and bring back a medical team. Rodney and I will attempt to take John to the village. Meet us with the medical team there."

Both men paused briefly, thinking through the plan for themselves.

"Won't that take longer for us to get back to you?" Asked Ronon, reasonably. "Why don't you start for the 'gate too, then I and the medics won't have as far to come back to meet you."

Teyla had thought of that, "But then it would still be more than two hours before John received ANY help. I still believe the Dolsans may be able to do _something_, and the sooner the better. The village is closer."

Ronon wasn't convinced, but held his tongue. Rodney felt no burden of restraint.

"I think Ronon's right. There's no point in going to the village. If we're going to risk moving him at all, we should move towards _actual _help."

"If we were equal distance between the two, I would agree, Rodney," Teyla snapped, growing angry that the two men had deferred the decision to her, then stood around wasting time arguing the path she'd chosen. "But the Stargate is nearly twice as far away. The Dolsans live here, and though they live a simple life, they are not simpletons, Rodney. They will know about the insect that stung him, and maybe even be able to treat him, if only with palliatives and a warm fire, but it is more than we have out here sitting on the ground!"

"Do you really think -!"

"Teyla's right, McKay."

Ronon, Rodney, and Teyla were all startled by the hoarse interruption and they turned to find John squinting up at them with a fierce look of annoyance. "She knows the Dolsans a lot better than we do, if she says they can help...then, I guess I could really use some right now." John spoke the last through gritted teeth, the casual admission of his situation instantly cooling any further arguments, and heightening the tension perceptibly. Teyla nodded once at him in a small gesture of confident thanks, and he returned the look with a small hopeful look of terror.

McKay also nodded, grudgingly agreeing, and Ronon quickly stood up. Teyla watched him immediately turn his face down the path towards the Stargate and gather himself for the grueling run - and she knew he would actually run the whole way. With a last glance at her, Ronon bent over briefly to slap the back of John's head, "Fight the pain, Sheppard," he murmured, and then he was gone, swallowed up by the deepening shadows.

John reeled with the farewell gesture of affection but managed to keep his head up long enough to watch his friend disappear.

Teyla also decided to start moving at once. "Can you walk with our help?" She asked John, taking his arm and checking his pulse once more. It was still fast, and his hand felt cooler than his flushed face would seem to indicate.

"With...help," he finally replied in a hoarse whisper, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before looking at her again.

Teyla felt furious sympathy flood her eyes and she couldn't stop herself from asking, "How do you feel? Are you in great pain?"

John snorted weakly in disgusted amusement, but his eyes told the truth. "Feel...like we really need to pack more bug spray..."

Teyla just nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and forced a smile that lasted only briefly. At last, girding herself for their own grueling task ahead, she turned to Rodney. "Rodney, we'll each take an arm. John, just...do what you can."

Rodney muttered as he and Teyla positioned themselves on either side of John and knelt to tug his arms across their shoulders. Teyla saw John grit his teeth at the movement and his flushed face glistened with a fresh sheen of perspiration. Before they had even readied themselves for the final heave to get John standing, he growled out a long moan of frustration.

"Stop, stop, stop," he hissed between thin white lips. They quickly dropped his arms to crouch beside him again. He began to fumble for the P-90 clip on his chest and panted out, "Hurts like a bitch...have to...take off...my vest." Teyla quickly brushed his hands away to remove the heavy weapon herself. She handed it to McKay who grudgingly clipped it to his own vest.

"What hurts so badly, John?" She asked, unsure of why removing the vest was important.

"My back," he answered tightly.

Teyla finished pulling down the zipper on the tactical vest and gently tugged it open and down John's arms, trying to prevent it from scraping against his back as it fell off his shoulders. He sighed in relief once the stiff material was lying in a heap on the ground, instantly forgotten, and Teyla pulled down John's collar again to examine the original sting. The mottled red splotch had spread from shoulder to shoulder, up into his hairline, and as far down his back as she could uncover. Even in the dim light she could see the dark pattern of the fierce inflammation against what little pale, normal skin remained. The venom, or at least the skin's reaction to the venom, was spreading astonishingly quickly. Teyla shot a look of horror at Rodney who could only stare back in equal terror. She took a deep shuddering breath and and sent a silent plea to the Ancestors for the quick feet of Ronon and the untested wisdom of the Dolsans.

"Let's go," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

Teyla dropped to one knee beside John again and lifted his arm over her shoulder. Rodney followed suit and at last they were able to heave John to wobbly feet. He gasped at the movement and closed his eyes tightly. Teyla knew that standing had to be extremely uncomfortable as his already low blood pressure failed to compensate quickly enough for the change in elevation, and she gave him a moment or two to adjust. John finally nodded, just barely, and they began to walk in awkward coordination, her one hand holding tightly onto John's arm over her shoulder, the other crossing Rodney's at John's waist and hooked into his belt.

Five minutes passed, then ten. The forest path grew darker and darker and the sound of alien birds twittering in the trees was replaced by the screechings and clickings of nocturnal creatures. By the time twenty minutes had struggled by under their feet, the sun had set completely and they walked in the dim twilight of a clear, star-filled night sky. Time passed too quickly, and every moment was a moment that Teyla worried about John falling deeper into the venom's influence. And yet, every moment felt infinitely long, as if they'd been walking in shadows for days rather than a mere fraction of an hour.

Teyla found herself nervously distracted by the unfamiliar night sounds, although they were the same as she'd slept peacefully among last night. She knew it was the tension and the worry clutching at her heart that added fear that would not otherwise have been there, but she was still unable to keep from glancing into the deep shadows of the bushes and trees they walked among. A sudden rustle of movement in crunchy leaves off to her right jolted her heart into her ears, and left it pounding until they were well past the place.

The laborious walk left her dripping with perspiration, her hair hanging limply plastered against her head, despite the night-cooled air. She was excruciatingly aware of every fast, shallow breath John took and the tension of listening for signs of respiratory distress knotted her shoulders into aching stiffness. Her heart ached with every hitch and painful gasp John let escape and she knew he made every weak step on sheer willpower alone. Such was John's obvious struggle to stay moving and stay conscious that even Rodney remained remarkably silent, his own face flushed and dripping.

Forty-five minutes or so after they began down the path towards the village, John began to moan softly with each gasping exhale and Teyla twisted in her hold on him to see his chin dipping closer and closer to his chest and his eyes rolling in unseeing randomness. She lurched to a halt, panting with exertion, "John?" Teyla gasped out in alarm.

Rodney gulped on his other side and worriedly watched as John jerked his head at hearing his name, then let out a sudden growling whimper and threw his head, arching his back. He sagged completely in their grasp and they all sank to their knees, Teyla and Rodney driven down by John's sudden deadweight.

John remained on his knees in stiff agony for a moment longer, then with a great sigh of defeat, he slumped forward. Rodney guided John's head and shoulder gently to the ground where John immediately curled his legs into himself and clutched at the back of his neck with both hands. The panting moans continued, each breath sounding like a soft curse of protest.

"Is he in shock?" McKay still had his hands on John's head, and he was looking at Teyla with something like desperation.

"Maybe, but I just...I think he's mostly in pain." Teyla answered breathlessly even as she was checking his pulse again and leaning her head close to his face to listen closely to his heart-breaking but unlabored breaths. John's pulse was pounding under her fingertips, and she rested her hand briefly on his chest to feel the hammering even through his heaving ribcage.

"Pain? That's just pain? He doesn't get taken out like this with just pain! This is Sheppard we're talking about!"

"No Rodney, there's more than pain. The venom is affecting his pulmonary system and possibly his nervous system as well. We are lucky it has _not_ yet affected his breathing." Teyla scooted herself closer to John's head and began to tug at the jacket still tied around his waist, wadding it up into a ball to press gently under his head as she continued speaking.

"Rodney, you need to run the rest of the way to the village and bring back help to carry John the rest of the way. Go to Iguel, he is the village leader of men. Ask him for a travois and strong backs, then ask him – politely Rodney – to request the Shaman's hospitality once John reaches the village. They will understand, then, that you need medical help."

Rodney froze at her instructions, looking suddenly terrified. "I'm not really very good with the… people thing, maybe you should – ."

"Rodney!" Teyla interrupted brusquely, "I wish to stay and watch after John, I have taken the most first aid training and he may need resuscitation at any moment. The village is very near. Just Go!"

"Ok, ok." Rodney heaved himself to his feet and fumbled with the P-90, finally finding and flipping on the flashlight to illuminate the hard dirt path before him. Teyla was relieved to see he left the weapon's safeties on, however. She did not wish the jittery scientist to shoot any unwary villagers who may make the mistake of startling him. He took a determined step down the road, then froze, turning for one last glance back with a very worried look, "Is he going to be OK?"

Teyla understood his hesitation, her own desire to stay with John as much born out of her fear for his life as from her qualifications. She rested her hand on John's shoulder, this time more for her own reassurance than for his. "Just go…" she said earnestly, trying to pour as much hope as she could into the command. Rodney nodded, then lumbered away, the bobbing pinpoint of light from his flashlight disappearing from view as he followed the path around a gentle bend.

Teyla returned her full attention to John, checking his pulse again and finding that it had returned to fast and light. He still lay on his side, his face pressed into the jacket and one hand still wrapped around the back of his neck. She tapped his cheek lightly and nudged his shoulder, "John, are you awake? You need to tell me what you feel like right now so I can help." She wasn't actually sure he would be able to answer, she rather assumed he'd passed out when he collapsed.

"Feel like crap," he mumbled, his eyes still closed and his face still buried in the jacket.

A small smile found her face, and she was somewhat relieved. A surly and evasive John Sheppard was a fighting John Sheppard. "You look like crap,"she chided him back, finding the slang on her usually formal lips humorous even to herself. "I was able to determine that much myself, but I could use some specific information." She'd learned long ago that he was more likely to skip the protests if he wasn't smothered with sympathy. A little indifference went a long with John.

He groaned and rolled slightly to turn his face towards her. His eyes remained shut, but he answered through gritted teeth, "Still feel really lightheaded, nauseous. Good…thing…I didn't eat…a big lunch…" He paused and swallowed hard a few times, then went on, "Worst is my back. Really hurts. The bite really hurts." His voice broke, almost as if admitting the pain increased its power over him. He panted a few breaths and Teyla rubbed his arm in sympathy. At last he growled through a deep shuddering breath and forced a tight smile onto his lips, "To be specific…"

"Rodney went for the villagers. Help will be here soon." Teyla found she had nothing more to offer John than the reassurance of a plan, any plan. Despite her continued belief that the villagers might be able to help in some way, in the desperate cold darkness of an alien night, she felt doubt grow within her chest. Perhaps Ronon had been right, they should have tried harder to get John closer to home. Perhaps they shouldn't have tried to move him at all. She had known his exertions might help spread the poison, what if that ultimately was more dangerous than waiting longer for help…

Almost as if John were reading her thoughts, he opened his eyes a slit to look at her face. "It was the right call…" he whispered, the reassurance short-lived when he suddenly gasped, rubbing at his chest with the hand that wasn't still clutched over his shoulder.

Teyla leaped for his neck and found his pulse hammering again. A long moment of terrified watching passed until the pulse soothed once more. John sighed and relaxed just slightly, burying his face again and this time, ignored or was unaware of Teyla's attempts to get him to respond.

Sagging onto one hip, Teyla folded her legs around herself and sat worriedly patting John's arm between frequent, nervous presses against his neck. The night seemed to press in around her as she could do nothing but settle in to wait. Almost as if a volume knob was suddenly turned up, she became aware of the shrieking and clicking nocturnal noises, interrupted occasionally by the rustle of wind in the leafy trees above her and the more terrifying rustle of dry leaves on the ground being disturbed by the roaming creatures of the forest floor.

Her own heart began to speed as a large animal crunched, unseen, through the thick underbrush East of their path and she involuntarily rested one hand on the reassuring coldness of her own P-90. She could even track the animal's path as it wandered in fits and starts, standing still for long moments, then suddenly scuffing and trampling the ground. Chewing her lips, Teyla forced down the images of horrific creatures invading her mind's eye, all bearing Earth names that meant nothing to her but formless terror. She really needed to find out what a _werewolf_ actually was, she decided nervously. She was certain no story could frighten her as much as her own active imagination.

In another of a series of trampling scuffles, the creature abruptly turned towards the path, stamping nearer her position with every noisy lurch.

In a sudden dash, the animal bolted onto the path only yards from John's prone position, and Teyla leaped to her feet, her weapon raised high and her breath coming in ragged gasps. The creature froze, its ears twitching frantically as it also finally noticed Teyla.

Trying to control her embarrassment, Teyla at last recognized the animal as one of the gentle herbivores that the villagers often hunted for food and skins. Rodney had called it a deer, John had made a joke about someone named…Bambi? that neither Ronon nor she understood. Whatever it was called on Earth or among the Dolsans, it was no threat to her and Teyla lowered her weapon immediately, dropping back to John's side, breathing deeply in relief. She continued to watch the deer curiously to see what it would do.

It remained frozen for a moment longer, then bobbed its head up and down, leaping into a sudden fit of lurches and bucking. It ran a few more steps closer, then stumbled, dropping onto the knees of its forelegs and panting heavily, rolling its eyes. Teyla tilted her chin, puzzled. The creature thrashed its head again, leaped to its feet and bolted off the path in a dead run. She heard it crashing away from them and blundering about for nearly a minute longer, then there was a muffled scuffle. After that, utter stillness fell upon the dark forest.

For some reason, the deer's silence felt ominous, and Teyla hastily reached for John's pulse again, only slightly reassured as the flutter under her fingertips remained worryingly fast. She looked at her watch. Rodney had been gone twenty minutes, and realistically wouldn't return for another fifteen, even if the villagers were quick in organizing themselves.

The knot of doubt returned. What if the villagers refused to help and they had risked moving John for nothing? What if the villagers were unable to do anything but provide John a warm place to die? Furiously she shoved that morbid thought aside, but her faith in her course of action and in herself continued to waver. With the part of her mind that could remain detachedly rational, she understood that her current diffidence was partly a symptom of the ongoing struggle to understand how she fit in on the new Atlantis. Teyla couldn't see herself in her same old role as Carter's advisor and was unsure that the strictly military Colonel would ever hand over command of Atlantis to her as Elizabeth had done on occasion. In her most insecure moments, Teyla wondered if, without Elizabeth, she would ever be again in a position of true leadership; if she would be able to prove herself to Colonel Carter sufficiently to earn that responsibility again.

In those moments, she selfishly missed Elizabeth the most keenly. In those moments, she missed her people and Athos most keenly.

John groaned softly, drawing Teyla's attention back to him. He thrashed his head slightly and stiffened against the pain she could see him repressing with furious concentration. His whole body seemed to vibrate with his efforts at control and she murmured reassuring nonsense until he calmed again, curling more tightly into a ball and burying his face more deeply into the wadded up jacket.She was truly awed by his endurance and it suddenly occurred to her that anyone else suffering the pain that John obviously felt would probably be screaming and fighting in desperation.

Or…bucking and running in panic like a stricken deer?!

Fierce, unwelcome tears squeezed out between her tightly closed eyes. If the thing that stung John habitually preyed upon animals as large as the deer, animals that averaged at least twice John's weight, then its venom must be formidable indeed. In desperation of her own, she clutched at John's limp hand and held it in her lap, watching him with something almost like apology, lost in doubt and worry. When he sighed and opened his eyes a few minutes later and squinted at her with curious confusion, she hastily blinked back the dampness from her eyes and forced the fear off of her face.

"What?" he rasped, sounding surprisingly self-conscious, as if he were concerned he'd suddenly sprouted a second head - or that his hair had gone flat. "You're looking at me funny."

"Perhaps that is because you are funny looking," she teased back softly to reassure him, somehow managing to keep her voice steady. She may be scared to death and riddled with doubt, but she would be damned before she'd worry John with that fact.

"Always with the jokes..." he sighed and closed his eyes again.

"How is the pain, John?" Teyla asked quickly, deciding to take advantage of his attention.

He chewed his lips for a long moment, as if deciding how or if to answer. "It's bad," he said. And that was all he said.

The next ten minutes passed in slow agony, Teyla felt she'd never endured such horror, such doubt, such fear. At least when the Wraith attacked, there was someone to blame, some anger to use, some revenge to seek. This was just mindless waiting.

John began to shudder, small tremors at first, then his shoulders shook and he jerked his head off the ground in puzzled discomfort. Teyla hastily checked his pulse for the thousandth time and bent to watch him watching his own hands shake. "John, are you cold?" she asked, flipping open the pocket in her vest that held a thermal blanket even before he answered.

"Not…really…" he breathed, grunting with another full body shudder.

Teyla paused, puzzled herself by the answer when a flicker of light out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She jerked her gaze towards the path and sudden relief flooded her chest as she finally saw a glow of warm firelight brightening the canopy of the forest just beyond the nearby bend. A genuine smile found her face and she turned to John, holding his hand again so he would be sure to pay attention.

"The villagers are here, John. They will take you to the Shaman."

John just nodded, then dropped his head to the ground when another tremor shook him.

Teyla stood up and rubbed her palms on her thighs. The glow brightened the path and she could suddenly see a large group of men carrying torches high over their heads. They were marching quickly, and some were waving the torches back and forth as if to ward off attack from above. Many were also carrying their hunting spears, gripped tightly in ready hands.

"Here!" she called out, unable to restrain herself from urging them on even faster. "We're here, please hurry."

Teyla finally recognized Iguel at the head of the pack and she looked for Rodney, finally spotting him in the middle of the group, obscured by the village hunters around him. She waved and was grinning in relief as Iguel gathered his men around them and finally stood before her.

"Colonel Sheppard, my friend, your friend through me, is in need. I am grateful for your assistance, Iguel." Teyla spoke quickly, forcing herself through the village courtesies, even as she was desperately eager to get John to the Shaman.

Iguel just looked squarely at her, his eyes sad with a kind of stern compassion. "Colonel Sheppard, my friend through you, is lost. He belongs to the Androctonus from which only a few have ever returned to themselves. I grieve with you."

Teyla frowned, confused by the response. "I don't understand, Iguel. John is right here, there's still time to help him."

Instead of replying, Iguel simply snatched for her arms. She struggled briefly then found more strong hands holding her firmly, keeping her arms pinned and away from her weapons. Once Teyla was securely held, Iguel nodded at four more of his men who immediately dropped beside John, gently but firmly rolling him onto his back and pinning his arms and legs into the ground and holding him tightly down as if he had just been about to fight them all.

"John!" Teyla exclaimed as he raised his head to look blearily around at his antagonists in painful confusion. She thrashed her elbows in rage and glared at Iguel. "What is the meaning of this?! We are old friends, Iguel. This man is my friend and therefore yours by custom. We asked for your help." She knew her voice was pleading in her confused fury, but Iguel's men merely held on tightly at her struggles.

"He belongs to the Androctonus," he repeated. "The Shaman will explain. Bring the pole!" Iguel shouted the last to the remaining men and left Teyla in the hands of the others. She was pulled away from John, powerless to do anything but watch as the men began next to bind his legs and arms together with wide leather thongs. He struggled weakly at the treatment, but was easily overpowered.

A soft, terrified voice in her ear jerked her head to the side to find Rodney standing close by, having finally been allowed to approach her. With a jolt she realized that he was also bound, his hands tied tightly together in front of him. He met her eyes with apologetic fear.

"I told you I'm no good with people," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

The village men finished binding John's hands and ankles together, then slipped a sturdy pole through the loops of his arms and legs. He groaned a painful, disgusted moan when they next hoisted him off the ground briefly, swinging by the bindings, to slip a wide leather strap under his hips, then lowered him again to tie the strap to the pole as well. John cried out when his shoulders touched the ground first, resting on the inflamed skin. He struggled madly with the pain for a long moment, and there was a brief, violent scuffle as the men wrestled with him, pinning him again into the ground. John's furious grunts of anger melted into whimpers of frustration, then quieted down completely into soft moans. The men hastily finished tying the last strap and laid the pole down along John's firmly restrained body.

Teyla was so enraged she could only stand seething as John was subdued, the hands on her own arms digging painful bruises into her flesh as she continued to pull and lean towards him. When she found her voice again, she was shocked at the betrayal she heard dripping in every word. "Why are you doing this? Iguel! John has done nothing to you, can't you see he's in terrible pain! He needs help and you bring bindings?"

Iguel ignored her pleading outburst, but consented to answer part of her question, even as he was kneeling by John's head and uncorking a leather flask that hung from a strap around his neck. "Those who are bitten by the Androctonus are consumed by the pain, most become violent before it takes them completely. That is why we bind him."

"John Sheppard is no danger to you, even in pain. He is strong, Iguel, and our people are coming soon to take him to our home. But time is critical. If you have seen the effects of this venom before, can you not do more for him than bindings!"

"The Shaman may offer him the Dream Serum if he is as strong as you believe. That is not for me to decide." Iguel spoke his reply from a squat at John's head. The village leader rested his hand briefly on John's again-shuddering shoulder, then shook his head solemnly at the man holding John's elbow into the ground. "He's already begun the tremors. Help me, Inez."

"What exactly are you doing?" blurted out Rodney as the man called Inez left John's arm to prop up his head and shoulders slightly. John winced and set his teeth, but this time held himself in check, resisting the impulse to fight.

"The tea sometimes helps with the pain," Iguel answered. He brought the leather flask to John's lips as Inez firmly tilted his chin into position. John looked at the flask warily through narrowed eyes and clamped his mouth shut. Iguel grabbed for John's jaw and pried into the flesh until his teeth reluctantly unlocked and Iguel forced the narrow spout between unwilling lips. "Some lose the ability to swallow, the tea can also help soothe the Androctonus' effect on the throat."

John's eyes widened as Iguel tipped up the flask and began to pour its contents, then he made a horrible grimace and gagged as the strong, bitter-tasting drink filled his mouth. Iguel did not relent and grabbed his jaw again, continuing to pour. John coughed, then was forced to choke down the liquid in desperate gulps. When he finally coughed again and the tea overflowed over John's chin and spilled onto his cheeks, Iguel removed the flask and swiped the drips off with a careless hand. John continued to gasp and splutter as Iguel re-corked the leather bottle, determinedly ignoring his captive's discomfort and Teyla and Rodney's protests.

When Iguel stood again and, with a wave, signaled the men to prepare for the march back to the village, his face seemed worried to Teyla; but worried for what she couldn't tell. Holding her temper in check, and shooting Rodney a look to quiet his protests, she spoke calmly but urgently to Iguel as he passed by on his way to the front of the line, pouring every ounce of persuasion she possessed into her words. "Iguel, you must listen. We are no threat to you. John is no threat to you. I see you are trying to help, but there is no need to use force or restraints. We will do what you think is best for John, but if you are concerned about our trustworthiness I must tell you this: what trust I do have in our longacquaintance will be lost if my friend continues to be treated in this way."

Iguel hesitated, looking down the path towards his home and Teyla saw a deep sadness flicker over the face of her old trading partner. "I lost my father to the Androctonus," Iguel said softly, still refusing to meet her gaze directly. "I thought as you do, I thought he was strong, too. When the seizures began, I couldn't bear to see him bound...so I cut him free."

Iguel abruptly turned towards Teyla and she gasped at the hardness that had replaced the instant of grief. Iguel's eyes flashed in the torchlight, and the flickers of shadows playing over his face brought a shiver of dread to Teyla's spine. "My father killed a man and wounded three others before the Androctonus finally claimed his life. That is why I bind your friend and treat him roughly. He is no longer himself. That is why I bind _you._ So you will not repeat my mistake."

At Iguel's words, a hunter unclipped Teyla's P-90 from her chest, tossing it clumsily into the forest, and began wrapping her hands tightly together with more leather. The group around John lined up to heave him off the ground by the pole. The procession passed by Teyla and Rodney in a solemn march, John swinging slightly from the pole and struggling to hold his head up as he was carried. Teyla called his name, her voice thick with encouraging worry, and his eyes met hers briefly before he was hauled on by. She was surprised to see no anger left in his expression. Only a cold, blank mask of carefully cultivated indifference remained, and he looked away with a resigned sigh even before he was out of sight. Teyla sucked in a startled breath.

"What? What's wrong? Other than the obvious we're being held captive while Sheppard dies a painful death at the hands of psychotic villagers thing?" Rodney was shoved into place beside Teyla and they were both hustled along behind John's escort, their own escorts waving torches over their heads. "Teyla?" Rodney prompted, not letting his concern go.

Teyla licked her lips. "It's John..."

"What? Is he sicker? Did that tea concoction poison him?!"

"No, he's just... He just looked...afraid."

"Oh, is that all. If I were swinging from a pole while fighting off scorpion venom, I'd be a little afraid too." Rodney rubbed his hands together and craned his neck to try to get a closer look at John. "I'm a little afraid for him, actually."

Teyla only nodded, but it wasn't the fear that Rodney was speaking of that she'd seen in John's eyes. It wasn't fear for his own life, it was something else: It was the same distancing she'd felt from him ever since they'd returned the crystal entities to their home and she wondered what the connection possibly could be. What fears were pulling him away from her, from all of his friends, when she thought he'd be turning to them the most?

Teyla looked at her watch in frustration. Ronon had been running for an hour and a half. It would take him at least another half hour to get to the Stargate, then at least another half hour for Atlantis to muster a rescue team and clear the 'gate. She had no idea how long it might take to burn or cut through the massive tangle of tree branches so that a jumper could get through, it might take longer than 30 minutes. Help would not come from Atlantis for at an hour at best. And in the meantime, John was in the hands of people who believed him dangerous and inhuman. A deep knot of shame threatened to overwhelm her. She had insisted on bringing John to the village. She had believed they would help, that they might even have a local cure. She felt betrayed, and more uncertain than she had ever felt. She had been wrong.

Or had she?

Teyla shook her head, forcing herself to put aside what she could feel was becoming almost paralyzing insecurity. John needed her to think clearly, to figure out what to do. She couldn't afford timidity, she had to think it through: These people had been trading partners, friends - albeit casual friends - for years. She had never seen them behave this way and she felt she needed to understand.

"Rodney, what happened when you went to the village and asked for help?"

"What? Oh. Well, I walked into town - ran. I mean, I ran into town and asked some guy to take me to Iguel like you said. Iguel was all friendly and helpful and started to knock on a few doors once I asked for help and for the Shaman's hospitality. You told me to say that." Rodney paused, looking to Teyla for confirmation and she nodded hastily in a 'get on with it' sort of way.

Rodney went on with it, "Anyway, Iguel and I went to the Shaman's hut together just before we were about ready to come get you. Iguel hadn't asked many questions, he just seemed eager to help, but the Shaman gave me this _look..." _Rodney screwed up his eyes comically and pointed two fingers at his own eyes for emphasis. "The first thing he asked was about this Androctonus creature and was Sheppard insane yet, or something obtuse like that. I told them he'd been stung by a scorpion and that the venom was causing great pain and that he couldn't walk any further."

He sighed and shrugged in confusion, "Everything got strange then. Iguel got all uppity and the Shaman got all intense. He gave Iguel that flask and a handful of those bindings. I guess I might have gotten a bit upset myself, what with all the talk about tying Sheppard up, and so they tied ME up. The rest you know!" Rodney gave a weary two-handed wave at John bobbing along in front of them.

Teyla was thoughtful for a long moment, "Did the Shaman say anything about a cure or treatment? Iguel mentioned...Dream Serum."

"Not really, although he kept telling Iguel to hurry. You think they're holding something back?"

"No. In fact, they seem quite familiar with the venom's symptoms. I think they must treat anyone who is stung in this manner."

"That's small comfort. If they can do this to their own people..." he trailed off and bent his neck again for another check on John.

"That's just it. I think they DO try to help their own people. Maybe, in their own way, they _are_ helping. They did give John the tea, Iguel said it helped the pain."

Suddenly curious, they _both_ shifted on the path for a good look at John. He hung limply from the restraints, and his head was sagging backwards towards the ground. He jerked it up once or twice as they watched, as if he were startling awake from dozing, then he would relax again. Teyla sighed, unable to tell much about John's condition from her position - but she thought he might look just a little bit less tense than before.

"I don't know," Rodney said at last, bitterness seeping into his tone. "Tea and maracas and leather ropes don't seem very much like a 'cure' in the medicinal sense. More like superstition and exorcism."

"But didn't you say yourself that most myths have some basis in fact? What if their traditional medicines also have some basis in experience. My own people make teas and ointments from the plants we cultivate. Dr. Keller has been quite interested in studying them, and the Dolsan tea."

Rodney shrugged, unconvinced, and Teyla didn't press. She was feeling just a tiny glimmer of hope, the initial shock of the startling actions of the villagers fading into guarded perspective. Perhaps they were helping, she thought to herself again. But she kept the thought private, knowing Rodney would disagree.

It took what seemed like a only short time to finally reach the village and Teyla watched Iguel closely as he moved ahead of their group to jog quickly up to the Shaman's door. The village leader knocked on the frame of the large domed hut, then disappeared inside briefly. When he stepped out again, he waved the men holding John towards him and held the thick leather drape that covered the entrance to one side. He then dropped it closed once they passed through.

Teyla and Rodney headed immediately for the hut themselves when their escorts grabbed for their elbows and Iguel stepped into their path at the door, preventing them from entering. "The Shaman requires privacy to judge the afflicted," Iguel intoned respectfully.

"Oh Great!" Rodney suddenly and surprisingly lost his temper. He squared up, face to enraged face, in front of Iguel who narrowed his eyes and stood his ground despite Rodney's furious advance, "That's just pretty darn convenient for you isn't it? We can't get in so we can't stop you from whatever torture you've all got cooked up for Sheppard next. And then, when he's conveniently _dead_ you can pat us on the back and say 'too bad, the bug gods must have needed another whipping boy in the neanderthal afterlife!'"

"Rodney!"

He spun to her in frustration. "Teyla, these people are giving us the runaround. We should never have asked for their help. We should just take Sheppard and go. Ronon will find us!"

Teyla winced at the rebuke, but she saw the desperate worry in his eyes and was instantly sympathetic. He was badly frustrated and badly frightened, and this last obstacle had thrown him over the edge of panic. Angry again herself, she took a deliberate step between the men, the gesture clearly meant to hold Rodney in check without undercutting his sentiment. She drew herself up to her fullest height, and glared at Iguel with her sternest expression.

"Your friend must stay..." Iguel said quickly and hesitantly, his eyes darting warily between the strangers who were suddenly directing pure fury at him.

"We will stay with John," Teyla said matter-of-factly. "You will allow us to enter. Now." Her tied hands drifted to her hip where her 9mil still sat comfortably holstered, within reach despite the bindings. Iguel's eyes widened, recognizing the gun as a weapon and the determination in Teyla's gesture.

"Your friend means enough to you to fight for?" he asked licking his lips and glancing at the men who stood close by but no longer heldTeyla's elbow. He was clearly calculating how quickly she might be able to draw and if his men would be able to stop her.

"He does," Teyla answered firmly. Her fingers touched the gun's butt.

"He is...family?" Iguel asked after a long hesitation. There was an odd quality to his voice.

Teyla tilted her head, "Yes. He is family. We are his family," she answered truthfully. John had admitted as much to her once, and Athosian custom was generous in its definition of the term.

Iguel relaxed just slightly and nodded jerkily, "Family are permitted join the stricken in vigil. You can enter when the Shaman dismisses the escort."

Teyla slowly nodded back and withdrew her hand from the holster, accepting the compromise. Iguel had no wish to fight her and she understood that he had found a face-saving way to allow their request. She was certain he was breaking the letter of the local customs, but he was trying. Teyla shot a quick look at Rodney's mutinous face, but he also accepted the agreement at her silent command. A long uncomfortable minute or two passed and Teyla stood exactly where she was, a step away and facing Iguel, Rodney planted equally firmly just behind her right shoulder. Iguel fidgeted at the pair's cool determination, his eyes flicking now and again to Teyla's 9mil.

When at last the leather drape was pulled open again, Teyla watched Iguel smother a relieved sigh and hastily step out of the way as the four men who'd carried John quietly slipped out and back into the village towards their own homes. Still holding the drape, Iguel swung his arm and gestured them inside. Teyla made no move except to hold out her hands, flexing her wrists against the bindings subtly. Iguel twitched and his eyes grew hard again with a deep, personal anger. But he reluctantly drew his knife from a beautifully decorated leather scabbard and sliced through her bonds, doing the same for Rodney a moment later. Only then did Teyla pass by, murmuring her thanks.

Rodney whispered into her ear as they were bending together to duck through the door's low frame, "So we're family now, eh?"

Teyla's lips twitched at the sarcasm in his tone, pleased that he had regained his composure enough to joke. "Of course," she whispered back deadpan, then added, "It seemed the prudent answer to the question."

"Just as long as I don't have to spend holidays with the man, too..."

The inside of the Shaman's hut was richly decorated with skins of the animal she'd seen in the forest and roughly woven tapestries. A stone fire pit was positioned in the exact center of the large circular room, and was glowing brightly, throwing off waves of heat. The room was warm and stuffy, thick with a refreshing but pungent scent. Teyla took one look around and quickly spotted John who had been laid on a blanket-covered platform on the far side of the fire. The Shaman sat on a stool by John's head, holding a bowl and seeming to be meditating over it. He was a rugged, middle-aged man in his prime, dressed in the same style of clothing as the hunters of the village with the exception of an elaborate beaded necklace and a spike of some polished bone in the lobe of one ear. Teyla suddenly remembered John and Rodney's amusement that the village medicine man wasn't an old, wizened and withered character, shuffling around the camp with a cane and missing teeth. _Their_ image of what a Shaman should look like greatly amused Teyla in turn: A medicine man or woman was spiritual leader of the community, and worked long hours treating and counseling the people of their village. That was no job for a weakened elder?! In the Pegasus Galaxy, any fortunate elders who reached the age of failing strength was treated with great respect and comfortable rest.

Teyla hesitated a moment, waiting for some sign or signal from the Shaman, but he neither moved nor acknowledged them in any way so she simply began towards them.

"Smells like an inhaler in here," Rodney muttered. Teyla took another deep breath and realized that, in fact, the scent was stimulating her lungs and nostrils with a pleasant tingling sensation. The small glimmer of hope grew just a bit; if the Shaman was using local medicine to soothe John's symptoms, then maybe they had found the help they needed until Atlantis came for them after all. Feeling more optimistic, she reached John's side.

The optimism died nearly as quickly as it had bloomed upon her first good look at her friend.

John had been stripped to the waist and lay on his back on the platform. His hands and ankles were tightly tied to brass rings attached to the platform's sides, another strap was stretched across his hips, and she saw his holster and 9mil laying in a careless pile a few feet away. Another strap across his forehead held his head down. Teyla choked back fury and slipped her hand into one of his, noticing the red, raw skin under the straps from his bindings and hanging from the pole. His eyes were tightly closed and she could see the lines of tension in the creases, the vibration of pain still reverberating along the long lines of his body. He shuddered slightly as she stood staring at him, but the tremors were not from any chill of air against his bare skin.

Teyla shot a glance at the silent Shaman, narrowing her eyes at his calculating return gaze. "We thank you for allowing us to sit vigil with our friend," she managed to say with enough courtesy to bring a small nod from the medicine-man.

"It is difficult to watch family suffer the fate of the Androctonus. Many choose to leave their loved ones in my care alone until the pain passes," he said, his voice gentler and smoother than his youth and his vigor would suggest; but there was still an edge in the tone. "Yet you may stay as long as you understand your place." She tilted her head at the warning, but made no promise with her eyes. They were trapped within the customs of these people, and she felt the delicate dance of diplomacy with every interaction. She knew that her input into what little, if any, help they could provide to John would be dependent on remaining cordial. But she would not agree to sit by if he were being harmed.

Instead she returned her full attention to John and spent some few moments running a first aid check for herself. She felt John's pulse, felt his forehead for fever and gently ran her fingers over the edge of the inflammation that had spilled just slightly over his shoulders and up his neck to his jaw line, giving the impression that he was wearing a red cloak tied around his throat. She at last rested her hand on his forearm and shook it slightly, "John? Can you hear me?"

She thought she saw him knot his brow slightly at the question and so she waited. Finally he nodded, as much as the bindings would allow. "Still breathing, still feel like crap," he said as if to cut off her obvious next question. His voice was barely more than a growly whisper.

"I'm so sorry, John." Without meaning to allow them, the words just burst out of her and she bowed her head quickly to hide the shame on her face from the Shaman who continued to sit, watching them all with wary scrutiny.

"You knew these folks tied people up for fun?" he asked, almost managing to sound amused.

"Of course not!"

"Then...can't see what there is to apologize for..."

Teyla whipped her head back up to find him squinting at her. She frowned at the distance that remained in his expression, the amusement far from having reached his eyes. Before she could think of a reply, John went on, holding her in his gaze.

"Look, the Shaman, here, explained things to me. Apparently, after the tremors begin, seizures come next and then I die from heart failure and shock. AFTER a brief episode of going murderously mad, of course." He looked away, staring at the ceiling. "Iguel's probably right. Maybe you guys should wait outside."

Teyla shot a look of complete surprise at Rodney who was standing awkwardly at the foot of the platform, looking as uncomfortably puzzled as Teyla felt. This just wasn't John talking. Teyla felt a stab of fear that far outweighed any she'd yet experienced so far that evening. She dropped to her knees and touched John's cheek lightly with her fingertips.

"Ronon will bring medics from Atlantis long before you are in danger of your life. Help will be here within the hour."

"Even so..."

"Even so - what!?" Teyla snapped, angry at John for apparently giving in before the fight was over. "There is no 'even so'. Help will come. You will survive. And you will _fight_."

John narrowed his eyes, a flicker of anger in their depths, "It's the fighting I worry about. I don't want to survive if I end up hurting you or McKay. If you stay, and I go mad..." he trailed off swallowing hard for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as a deep shudder ran through him.

Teyla sat back on her heels. This was what was disturbing John so deeply? He was afraid of going mad and hurting her? He was afraid of hurting his friends? To her that fear seemed completely irrational; John would never hurt them, even in madness, no matter what Iguel's people believed. And even if he tried...

Teyla leaned close again and brushed a strand of hair off of John's forehead. "You will have to practice much more with the sticks before I fear you, John Sheppard. Even in madness!" she said firmly. John's eyes flew open and she cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to contradict her. He stared in serious thought for a long moment then flicked his eyes down to Rodney at his feet. Teyla shot a look at the scientist who jumped at the implicit command in her eyes.

"Oh sure. I'm not afraid of Sheppard either. I mean, if he comes at me or something I would, you know - I'd shoot him." Teyla widened her eyes in embarrassed reproach and Rodney threw up his hands. "Well I'd rather NOT shoot him, of course. I thought we were trying to reassure the sick man, here."

Teyla smiled and looked back at John. He was looking at the ceiling again and chewing his lips. At last he met her gaze, "Just...don't let me hurt anyone else, either," he asked softly, demanding a promise from her with his look. She nodded firmly and he seemed to finally relax, closing his eyes, and starting to pant a little bit, his breaths coming faster in soft gasps.

"What IS he doing, anyway?" blurted out Rodney and Teyla turned to see him staring at the Shaman who was swirling the bowl and returning the attention with equal intensity.

"He's waiting for the tea to cool," the Shaman answered, speaking himself and raising the bowl in explanation. "It will help soothe the flame under his skin." As if the question had prompted the proper timing, the Shaman dipped his fingers into the liquid and pulled out long, wide, wet brown leaves and began to plaster them over John's shoulders and neck, then coaxed John to arch his back so more leaves could be placed against the original sting and the inflammation on his back. John grunted, opening his mouth to pant harder.

"They're still hot, doc," John complained, narrowing his eyes at the unconcerned Shaman.

"The heat draws out the pain," retorted the Shaman, and John just sighed in a resigned _of course it does_ kind of way.

"That's just disgusting," Rodney added as the Shaman next poured some of the remaining liquid into a tiny pitcher and insisted that John drink as much as he was able. John grimaced and managed to choke down several more swallows.

"The restraints I understand," he panted at Teyla after he'd stopped gagging from the vile taste of the herbal medicine. "But I may never forgive you for having to drink that stuff."

"I accept the responsibility," Teyla answered solemnly with a twinkle in her eye. In truth, the tea and leaves were the only thing Teyla felt reassured by.

John chuckled weakly, then coughed. Then he rolled his eyes to look vacantly at the ceiling and the soft gasps of his rapid breath became ragged moans.

"John?"

"He is experiencing a seizure," The Shaman answered, his voice thick with sympathy and distant with impotence.

Teyla gasped and felt panic rise as John's moans grew into hoarse shouts and his body began to thrash and twitch. She had seen people suffer seizures, but this was unlike any she'd witnessed before. Rather than random and uncoordinated jerking that was, in her experience, frightening enough, this was violent thrashing and almost coordinated, repetitive wrenching of arms and legs against the restraints. The straps on John's arms began to cut into the already raw flesh and blood began to ooze onto his forearms and wrists.

"Rodney, help me!" Teyla ordered with panicky control, then grabbed for John's closet arm, holding it firmly into the blankets of the platform. Rodney joined her on the other side, and they managed to keep him from damaging himself even more. John strained against the strap around his head, his back arching up off the table and his neck standing out in strings of tension. A long minute of terrifying wrestling passed. When the convulsions finally faded into mild twitching, and John's shoulders relaxed again onto the blankets, Teyla hung her head for several deep breaths, feeling her own shoulders shaking with reaction. A last glance at John confirmed him deeply unconscious, sweat and blood slicked across his face, the blood seeping out from the abraded skin under the strap on his forehead and beading from the corner of his mouth; he'd apparently bitten his lip during the episode.

She lifted her head and met Rodney's equally disturbed look. As one, they both turned to the Shaman who was adding more leaves to an oil lamp, and fanning the smoke into the room. From the sudden burst of scent, Teyla realized that the lamp was the source of the tingling fragrance throughout the hut. She could feel Rodney's anger bubbling under his terror, even from across the platform, so she spoke first and quickly, desperate to maintain the delicate truce she'd managed with these people. If the Shaman ordered them removed, there would be little they could do to protect John.

"Shaman, our concern for our friend is great. Is there nothing more you can do? Can you tell us nothing more about the venom's affects and how we might soothe our friend's suffering?"

Rodney glowered at her carefully formal questions, but she tilted her head in warning at him, begging him with her eyes to keep himself under control.

"Once the seizures begin, the afflicted stands at the beginning of the end. Two paths lead away from your friend. Both lead to death; only one has ever led to escaping the Androctonus' claim."

"Could you please be a little more obtuse? I think I might have understood a little about what you were saying!" Unable to stand the tension combined with the mystic way many spiritual leaders spoke, Rodney burst into a little fit of sarcasm. But Teyla was listening closely.

"Shaman, tell me about the path that leads to survival?"

"The venom stresses the body so severely, most die from the heart's inability to withstand the strain. There is a medicine, the Dream Serum, that can encourage the heart and body to continue to function beyond its normal capacity. If it can do so long enough for the venom's effect to fade, then there is a chance that your friend can recover. There is also the chance that the medicine will not push the body enough, and the chance that the medicine will push too much and he will die from its own effects."

"And if he does not take that path?" Teyla needed to be sure she understood the Shaman's choice.

"He will die."

"How long, though. How long will the body be able to withstand the stress without taking the Dream Serum?"

The Shaman glanced over at John with a sad look, "Most do not survive a third seizure. The pain and the call of the Androctonus are greatest after the first. Your friend is the most dangerous in this hour. The hunters will post a strong guard around the hut, now. If you choose the Dream Serum, you must do so before he seizes again or he may not regain consciousness again to take the medicine."

Teyla closed her eyes, forcing calm into her otherwise desperately terrified mind. She was a leader of people, but she had never held just one person's life so intimately in her hands. What would John wish? What would Dr. Keller advise? When would Ronon get here?

"How long do you believe John has before a second seizure begins?" she asked. Ronon could not get to them for another 30 minutes in the most hopeful of scenarios.

"Some seize in rapid succession. Your friend is quite strong, a good candidate for the Dream Serum. I guess that he will fight the venom well, perhaps as long as four turns." The Shaman gestured to a simple sand-timer, then, for demonstration, he turned it once and set it down to begin its slow trickle. Teyla watched the sand fall, counting seconds and guessing at the amount of time the sand represented. She closed her eyes again, this time laying her hand on John's and squeezing his fingers tightly.

"And how long before he dies if we refuse the Dream Serum?"

"The end is swift after the second seizure, another two turns."

Teyla sucked in a sharp breath that might have been a sob.

30 minutes.

If the Shaman's guess was correct, John had 30 minutes to live.


	4. Chapter 4

Teyla turned away from the Shaman and bent over John, still holding his hand. To distract herself from the decision thrust upon her, she gently wiped away the trickle of blood from the corner of his lip with her finger and brushed fine strands of hair plastered in sweat and blood off his forehead.

"You can't do it," said Rodney suddenly, leaning over John to speak to her in an intense whisper.

"Can't do what?"

"You can't let these people give him any crazy potions or magic plants. For all we know, the stuff might be meant to take out a victim even quicker, to relieve the symptoms permanently so to speak."

Teyla frowned, unsurprised by Rodney's opinion on the situation, but somewhat taken aback by the bitter mistrust in his tone. "I don't think they would give him such a thing without telling us what it does?"

"So, then one guy got lucky - once. Maybe this dream potion had something to do with it, maybe not."

"The Shaman has told us that the Dream Serum offers no guarantees, Rodney. He is not deceiving us!"

"They tie people up, Teyla! Tie them up when they're sick and leave them to die with the man who makes the tea!" Rodney's whisper had become a furious hiss, and Teyla studied him warily for a long moment, certain she'd never seen the man quite so upset or frightened. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay calm, telling herself over and over that Rodney was only scared.

"Your people also restrain those who are sick when they are a threat to themselves and others, Rodney. I trust that the Dolsans are trying their best to help in the way that they know best..."

"You're going to do it, then. You're going to let them give him this dream stuff!"

"I haven't decided yet, Rodney."

"Who says you get to decide!?"

"I do," croaked a weak whisper below their fiercely bent together faces. For the second time that night, they jerked their heads towards John and felt themselves jolted out of senseless arguing. "Teyla...knows these people. She...decides."

Teyla felt her eyes sting with emotion as she looked at John's pain-creased brow and tension-taut shoulders. He blinked slowly, still groggily returning to consciousness. The tension spread from the shoulders to his jaw and into his hands, the one entwined with Teyla's gripping with trembling ferocity. Despite all he'd been put through, all he'd endured, John still trusted her. He always had, she knew. But in that terrible moment, when his life could literally be determined by her actions in the next twenty minutes, she suddenly realized that what was so wonderfully, uniquely John was that his trust wasn't founded on proofs or great noble acts. It was John Sheppard trust: the kind where you were summed up in an instant of keen perception and he decided he trusted you. And once he did, that was it. It was the kind of trust that bound people to him in a way she'd never seen before, and it was the glue that bound their team together.

She glanced back at Rodney who was staring at John with suspicious curiosity, "Sheppard, do you even know what we're talking about here?" he asked.

John chewed his lip for a long moment then shrugged ever so slightly. "Not really," he gasped.

Teyla laughed, a desperate, choking, sob of relieved tension.

"I didn't think so," Rodney sighed, clearly still angry but bound to John in the same way she was. He would accept her decision, because John had asked him to. With a cold shiver, Teyla suddenly wondered what would become of their team if they ever lost John. Feeling a surge of resolve and fierce determination, she refused to accept that possibility. She watched John for a long time, saw the pain that the Shaman anticipated would be more severe than even before creep into every muscle and contort his face into a mask of effort. She finally took a deep breath, certain of her path. She would not let doubt deviate her from what she felt was truly John's best chance at survival.

"We'll wait a little, see if we hear from Atlantis or get any information about when they might arrive. If it looks like they will not arrive before John is in danger of a second seizure, the Shaman may administer the Dream Serum." Her voice rang with authority, and she saw both Rodney and John nod slightly, if only at the decisiveness in her tone.

She turned back to the Shaman, who had been again politely ignoring their conversation and Teyla's respect for the man went up a notch at the realization that the man could easily have been offended by Rodney's not-so-private outburst. He instead seemed to have chosen to allow the friends to work out their difficulties as they had needed to. He was a wise spiritual leader.

Holding his eyes, she completed her request, "John may have need of the Dream Serum, what do we need to do to prepare for it?"

The Shaman nodded, concerned intensity knotted on his brow. "I will prepare the Serum. It takes little time, but I must retrieve it from the herb cellar. He started immediately for the door of the hut, pausing at the threshold. He twisted back briefly to add, "Iguel will send in a guard to watch over your friend while I am gone." Then he slipped out before Teyla could so much as begin to form a protest.

A moment later, Iguel himself and two other hunters, armed with their spears and knives glittering on their belts stepped inside to stand alertly at either side of the door. Iguel crossed the room and stood at John's feet, his face a mask of pained fury. Teyla was nervously worried about the hunt leader's presence. He was clearly distraught by the situation that reminded him of his own tragic past. For a moment, she wondered if he often stood guard at others' sickbeds. She wondered if he felt he was paying penance for the death his father had committed. Or did he feel so convinced by the experience, that all who were bitten were lost, that he carried out the duty to guard with something like fanaticism.

She looked at Iguel warily for a moment, then shot a glance at Rodney who stood glaring at Iguel with his arms crossed, and his chin tilted up in barely controlled temper. Teyla understood his anger.

"There is no need to worry, Iguel," Teyla said sternly. "We are in no danger from our friend."

"You do not know the strength of the call of the Androctonus," Iguel answered back tightly, and Teyla could only sigh and returned her attention to John. Healing her friend Iguel was beyond her capacity. 

John had continued to tense and his whole body seemed strung like a bow, taut against the restraints. His face seemed pale and he tightened his grip on her hand as a moaning gasp escaped his lips. "John, is there anything I can do?" Teyla suddenly wished the Shaman hadn't left, she desperately wanted some way to relieve his pain.

John didn't, or couldn't, answer but writhed with another trembling wave of suffering. His eyes began to dart wildly around the room, taking in the guards, flicking over Teyla and Rodney, then returning to Iguel who shifted his hands on his spear restlessly. Teyla reached for his neck and found his heart pounding, even feeling the vibrations against her palm that rested lightly against his chest. Rodney had begun to pace back and forth, wringing his hands as he helplessly watched John ride out another surge. Another moan, sounding like a growl of anger was wrenched from him and he worked his hands open and shut, twisting against the restraints. 

"Is he having another seizure?" Rodney asked meekly.

"He feels the call," Iguel whispered.

"He feels great pain!" Teyla snapped, feeling helpless herself. "Iguel, go and bring the Shaman, please! There must be something he can do."

Iguel just scoffed and scuffed his feet more firmly into the ground.

John moaned again, "Sssstop, stop, stop..." he began to pant, his wild eyes locked on Iguel.

"Stop what John? What needs to stop?" Teyla forced her voice into soothing tones.

"Make it stop. It hurts, make him stop."

Teyla was confused, understanding nothing but that John was delirious with pain and had set his sights on Iguel. "John, you've been stung by a scorpion. You're suffering from its venom. Can you remember? The pain will pass, you must be strong."

John shuddered and closed his eyes tightly. His face was slick with sweat again and she twisted to look around for a cloth or something to cool his head. She spotted a wooden barrel and a drinking gourd across the room and, giving John a hasty pat, she untangled her fingers from his and quickly jogged over to snatch at a towel that was set nearby and began to dip it in the water that was stored in the barrel as she'd suspected. A sudden scuffle behind her startled the cloth out of her hands and she whirled, heart pounding.

With an almighty, vicious and desperate wrench, John had snapped the leather thong that held his right wrist to the platform. His yelp of pain at the yank stunned Iguel long enough for John to next shove at the strap across his head, pushing it off and scraping the skin into a long oozing band of raw flesh. Teyla spun just as John heaved himself upright and began to reach over for the straps around his boots. Iguel gripped his spear and drew it back for a stabbing thrust at John's chest.

"No! Iguel, NO!" she shouted, throwing herself back across the room, even as she realized the two guards by the door were also moving towards John.

Iguel never completed the thrust. Rodney lowered his shoulder and clumsily plowed into the hunter, knocking him sideways. They both staggered away from the foot of the platform and Teyla watched in horror as the distraction gave John the time to finish pulling the hidden knife out of his boot and cut the bindings around his ankles and remaining wrist. Shocked at how quickly and smoothly he was moving in his pain enraged state, Teyla watched him throw his legs over the side and stagger to his feet.

John wobbled unsteadily in roughly her direction and she skidded to a halt, planting herself between him and the hunters who were also nearly upon him, their own spears drawn back. Rodney stumbled and shoved until he had bulled his way next to her and together they stood with their hands out, barring the hunters from approaching any nearer. Teyla could hear John's ragged breath behind her, and he took a few more scuffling steps before he also stopped moving.

Iguel pushed his hunters aside and gestured fiercely with his spear, "Move out of the way before you are killed by your own folly."

Teyla shook her head firmly. "No, Iguel. It is you who need to lower your weapons."

A deadly click sounded just behind Teyla's right shoulder and she blinked in horrified realization: John's holster and 9mil had been tossed aside to lie in a heap, just about where John was standing now.

Slowly turning her head, she risked a glance behind her. John stood in firing stance, his legs planted one in front of the other and the 9mil cocked at shoulder height. She continued to turn slowly, realizing that he was shaking with the effort of holding the position. He blinked and shook his head a little, but his eyes and the muzzle remained locked on Iguel.

"Iguel, listen to me," Teyla spoke low and calmly. John never even glanced at her. "You must lower your spear. You will be in no danger if you lower your weapon."

"He's mad! He belongs to the Androctonus. He will kill all of us if we don't kill him first!" Iguel sounded panicky, on the verge of hysteria, and Teyla cursed the Shaman for allowing the man to be here. Surely the healer had known how unstable Iguel would be in this situation...not that any of them had expected John to free himself, she admitted.

John hissed at the anxiety in the man's voice and raised his weapon even higher. Teyla took a quick step directly in the line of fire and waited until she caught and held John's bleary confused eyes.

"He's sick. He's in pain. You are threatening _him_, Iguel," she said softly over her shoulder, then held out her hand and took a single step towards John.

John squinted at her, then leaned a little to try to find Iguel again, but Teyla shifted with him, forcing him to meet her gaze again. She took another step closer, John began to shudder even harder and the weapon wavered in his grasp. "You will not harm me, John. You need to put the gun down."

"I...can't...can't stop the pain. Make him stop it." He sounded angry, desperate.

"We will stop it together John. The pain will pass." She held him in her gaze, saw him wrestling between his unwillingness to hurt her and his irrational pain-fueled fury.

"Move ssside," he slurred, gesturing wildly with the weapon.

Teyla took one more step. "You will not hurt anyone. You are strong, John. You will fight the pain and it will pass."

John shook his head, as if she just didn't understand. "I can't stop it," he said, his voice pleading. 

"Then you will endure it."

John rolled his head, then bit his lips as the internal battle for control was fought. His gun dipped then lifted again; he shook his head, then planted his feet more firmly. After a silent but intensely personal struggle, Teyla finally saw the moment that the anger evaporated, conquered by willpower alone, leaving only the desperation behind. Desperation and maybe just a tiny flicker of triumph. John closed his eyes and Teyla quickly closed the distance, gently pushing his raised gun arm down. He leaned into her slightly as she wrapped her arms around him, holding his to his sides and pinning them tightly, even as she rested her cheek against his shoulder. His panting breath tickled her hair, and she felt his body trembling against her.

"The pain will pass," she whispered again, certain she could keep that promise, terrified that it would be his death that brought him relief.

Rodney stepped closer and put his hands on John's arms from behind as well, holding him securely between them in friendship and strength. The gun dropped to the floor beside her foot. A long quiet moment passed, then she heard a spear being thrown angrily to the ground and feet stomping towards the door. She heard the leather flap thrust aside, then the feet were gone. John leaned harder and curled up against her in tense agony. Teyla struggled to stay upright as he buried his face in her neck.

"Help us get him back to the bed," she heard Rodney say, and there were suddenly two more pairs of hands on John's arms, holding and guiding him to the platform. The two remaining, very confused but helpful guards lay him down on the blankets where he curled into a tight ball, then they returned to their post by the door, spears resting forgotten in loose hands. Rodney busied himself with fussing over the rumpled blankets, then, finding no more inane tasks to complete, he sank onto the stool where the Shaman had been sitting and scrubbed his face with his hands.

Teyla stood looking over John with her arms wrapped around herself, trying to regain her composure. She had seen the delusional fury in John's eyes, and knew how close he had been to a raging rampage. She had seen how hard he had fought to release the anger. He still shuddered and writhed ever-so-slightly in the venom's grasp and she saw the constant effort and exhaustion beginning taking its toll. He was weakening. Despite all his strength, or perhaps because of it, he had run down his reserves and she saw him slipping swiftly into defeat.

The Shaman returned only a short time later. He dismissed the guards and walked over to stand next to Teyla, studying John as carefully as she had been. "His strength is failing," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Teyla breathed in reply. She knew the moment had come. They had heard nothing from Atlantis but as she looked at John, she realized that even if they came exactly when she expected them, the earliest they could possibly be there, she knew that John would not survive until then without intervention. He would not last the full thirty minutes. "We must give him your Dream Serum to sustain him. He needs it now."

"It is ready. If _you_ are ready, you may place this on his tongue while I steep the rest in some hot water." The Shaman handed Teyla a small piece of the ever-present brown tea leaf, this one dried and about the size of a quarter. At her puzzled, worried look, the Shaman nodded encouragingly, "The medicine is soaked into the leaf and allowed to dry. The amount on the leaf is only a portion of the dose he requires, but it will be absorbed much more quickly into his system from the tongue, starting its effects hopefully in time. The rest he will need to swallow."

She nodded, then knelt beside the platform, brushing his hair again and shaking his shoulder to rouse him. He groaned and rolled halfway back onto his back to peer at her, his expression more weary than uncomfortable. "You must hold this on your tongue, John. It is powerful medicine that will help you fight the venom. Will you take it?"

John nodded. Before Teyla could place the leaf, Rodney's soft, strangled voice held her hand. "Teyla. Are you sure about this?" She looked over to see the scientist clasping his hands tightly together and leaning over his knees to stare at the floor. He finally looked up and met her eyes with cold, repressed anger. _Are you sure, because I don't trust these people and trust their primitive medicine even less._

Teyla hesitated for only the barest fraction of an instant. "Yes, Rodney. I'm sure." And she held the leaf to John's lips.


	5. Chapter 5

A minute or two later, the Shaman brought John a warm cup of the Dream Serum and coaxed him to swallow the entire amount. Another leaf was placed on his tongue to replace the first, then another five minutes later.

Teyla hovered beside John, her fear and worry manifesting itself in compulsive pulse checking until she finally sat on the ground beside the platform and simply held his wrist in her hand, fingers pressed continuously against the reassuring beat of life. John tried to make a joke about holding hands at the movies, but was interrupted by a tremor that shook his whole body and left him panting, the joke long forgotten. She might have been imagining it, but she thought, just maybe, that the fast light flutter felt just a bit stronger - the beats a trifle harder.

The slight hope the observation brought was crushed out when he seized for the second time fifteen minutes after he'd taken the first leaf of the Dream Serum. The convulsions were not nearly as violent, owing to his weakened state, but equally terrifying. When they ceased, and his body finally rested in a sprawl across the blankets, John was deeply unconscious. This time he remained so.

"Is he supposed to keep doing that?" Rodney burst out after letting go of the arm he'd been holding down. "I thought this medicine was supposed to protect him from the seizures that were killing him!" His tone was part terror, part accusation.

"The second seizure was delayed, and was milder. The medicine is having an effect. When it reaches full potency, and if we continue the dosage correctly, it will prevent further seizures until the venom wears off."

"How long? How long until it wears off?"

"Six to Eight hours after the sting. Sometimes longer."

Rodney just stared. "He was bitten three hours ago. He's only halfway through this thing?"

The Shaman shrugged, the gesture more resigned than flippant, "He has survived and even triumphed through the most difficult part. He has only to endure."

"I'm not really good with the enduring thing," Rodney snapped, his frustration threatening to explode into anger again.

"Then why don't you help me tend to his injuries, Rodney," Teyla suggested calmly, hoping that a useful task would soothe his anxiety. "Get out your medical kit for me please, and then cut those bindings free from his wrists."

Rodney nodded, distracted as she had hoped by the chore, and they were soon working together to clean and bandage the scrapes caused by the leather thongs. The Shaman sat on his stool again, watching their techniques curiously between watchful glances at John's quietly unconscious body.

They had just finished rubbing triple antibiotic into the worst abrasions on John's right wrist when their radios suddenly blared to life in a crackle of static.

"Dr. McKay, Teyla, this is Atlantis base. Do you read?" Teyla had never been so happy to hear Colonel Carter's voice.

"Yes! Yes, oh finally yes. Where are you landing, Sam? I'll meet you outside to show you the way to the Shaman's hut." Rodney had pounced on his radio and was already halfway to the door before Teyla could even raise her hand to the radio's pocket.

"Negative, Rodney. We've been delayed..."

"No, no, no. The 'gate is out of range. You have to be nearby or these radios wouldn't be receiving." He sounded hysterically annoyed, as if she were playing a bad joke on him.

"We managed to get a UAV up to relay communications. The tree obstructing the 'gate started to roll when we began cutting out branches. We have to stabilize it first or the trunk will crush the DHD, not to mention block the 'gate even more thoroughly."

Rodney froze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "How long?" he asked with a chuff of exasperation.

"Ronon just left with a team of field medics on foot. At worst, someone will be there in three hours. Hopefully, we'll get a jumper through much sooner, though." There was a pause, almost as if Colonel Carter was afraid to ask the question that was most obvious to ask next, "How is Colonel Sheppard?"

Disgusted, Rodney just waved at Teyla who opened the channel on her own radio, "He is holding his own, although his condition is most critical. The village Shaman is treating his symptoms with local medicines and they appear to be effective, so far."

"This person is treating him?" Carter's voice sounded surprised, although she gave no hints as to what was alarming her. A very small tingle of annoyance crept down Teyla's spine.

"The Shaman is familiar with the creature and the effects of the venom the Colonel is suffering."

"Of course. Do you wish to consult with Dr. Keller via radio?"

"I see no reason to at the moment. We will contact you should we require assistance."

"Understood. Atlantis out."

The radio hissed into silence and Teyla and Rodney exchanged a long, fearful look. Some of Rodney's anger seemed tempered and Teyla guessed that Atlantis's delay in reaching them had justified their decision to treat John with the Dream Serum somewhat. "So now what?" he asked, sounding lost.

"We wait. We watch. We keep John company."

Rodney nodded heavily and wandered around the hut for a drink of water from the barrel and dragged back a small wooden chair from beside the Shaman's dining table. He turned it backwards, straddled the seat and rested his chin on top of folded hands along the wooden back. Teyla curled herself on the edge of the platform, managing to find a way to wrap her legs into a comfortable position and prop her own chin on one knee. Her hand still rested on John's wrist, and she watched his face closely, making note of every flicker of expression that crossed his pain creased brow. The Shaman held the small basket with the remaining Dream Serum leaves, also watching with a serenity that resembled meditation even in it's alertness.

"He'll be OK, you know?" Rodney muttered softly after many long minutes of quiet passed in the Shaman's hut.

Teyla couldn't bring herself to answer, but she tilted her head at Rodney, encouraging him to finish his thought.

"He's too proud to be taken out by a bug. He'd never let that happen. No, if he can survive everything that Iratus bug did to him, he can beat this scorpion-impersonating micro nuisance."

Teyla nodded with a smile. John had indeed survived a great deal in the years since she'd known him, he seemed to have an insatiable thirst for life, and for his life on Atlantis in particular.

An hour crawled by. Rodney paced a little now and then, the Shaman watched. Teyla sat, encouraging every breath, applauding every flutter of pulse under her fingertips; his heart remained steady. Just as Teyla was beginning to notice that John seemed to be sweating slightly, his dry cool skin turning warm and tacky, he started to shiver ever so slightly and curled up tighter on the platform. She reached for his forehead and felt the first warmth of fever beginning to heat his already sweaty head. She looked around in alarm for the Shaman who had left his stool and was stoking the fire, adding more fuel and bringing the coals into crackling flame. The room felt almost immediately warmer and Teyla realized that the Shaman had already diagnosed the fever and was heating the room for John's comfort.

When he was finished with the fire, the Shaman brought over some warm woolen blankets from his own platform bed and helped Teyla tuck them in around John's bare shoulders and torso. John's shivering stopped, and he seemed to relax again as the warmth soothed the fever-induced chill.

"The Serum often brings fever," the Shaman said, returning to his stool. He broke off a piece of leaf and handed it to Teyla. "The fever weakens the body further. We will watch him closely." Teyla nodded with a gulp and placed the leaf on John's tongue, finding his wrist again.

Half an hour longer passed before John moved or so much as twitched an eyelid. When he suddenly spoke her name, she started and looked around, searching for the voice.

"Teyla..." he said again, the voice not raspy and weak, but sounding almost normal. She finally looked at him, confused when he still lay completely still, eyes closed, although they flickered under his eyelids.

"He is dreaming," the Shaman whispered. "The Dream Serum is a potent window into the dream world. The Shaman use small amounts to enhance meditation. At strong doses, the dreams can become quite vivid."

Teyla shuddered. They'd had too many dreams all too recently. She did not wish any more nightmares upon John. "Will the dreams disturb him?" she asked.

"It depends on the dreamer."

"Teyla. Rodney's dead," said John suddenly, still motionless. Rodney shot his head up from his hands at his name.

"No I'm not!" he exclaimed.

"Carson, Elizabeth, McKay...all dead. Ronon's gone..." John rolled his head a little, his face wincing slightly.

Teyla stroked his shoulder, trying to soothe him with touch and a calm voice, "You're dreaming John. I am here, Rodney is here. Ronon is coming."

"One by one by one by one..." John breathed a deep sigh, then Teyla could almost see him clamping his jaw, pushing aside the fears even in the deepest of sleep. He said no more.

They waited for more mumbles, finally drifting back into the tense stupor of waiting again when he remained silent.

Another half-hour passed. John began to shiver again, even under the blankets. The Shaman handed Teyla another leaf, and his eyes were worried. "He weakens faster than the venom disspates," the Shaman muttered, almost to himself. Teyla started at the soft concern and looked at John long and hard, finally seeing what the Shaman had seen. The sweat on John's face had dried and yet he shivered again. His heart still felt strong under her fingertips, but she realized it may have quickened beyond even the venom-induced flutter. He was going into shock, she realized. She quickly placed the leaf in his mouth, making sure he had already swallowed the last one.

"What can we do?" she said, the question a desperate command.

"What's wrong?" Rodney said quickly, catching on to the sudden tension.

"He's going into shock, Rodney."

"What do we do?" Rodney repeated, also turning to the Shaman.

"The battle is his. He is strong, as you know, but he fights hard and the struggle is long. The medicine must be cautiously administered, too much or too little will both harm him."

"There's nothing more you can do, you mean," accused Rodney.

"I have a great deal more to do. But yes, the majority of the work is your friend's."

Rodney rolled his eyes and scoffed, then angrily reached for his radio. He almost jumped out of his skin when it suddenly crackled into life before he'd so much as gripped the pocket.

"McKay! Do you read?" Colonel Carter's voice again rang through the tiny speaker.

"We're still here, if that's what you mean. Where are you?!" Apparently he'd abandoned courtesy, even for his own chain of command.

"We made it through the 'gate. We're en route in a jumper as I speak. ETA 5 minutes. Where should we land?"

Rodney sighed in nominal relief, then shrugged and looked at Teyla. "The village has been cleared of trees. There should be room for the jumper by the place where the path emerges from the forest," she told him quickly.

"South side of the village," he relayed. "We'll send someone to meet you."

"Understood, Jumper out." And she closed the connection.

"It's about time," Rodney growled. "I'll go meet them." And he was out the door in a furious stomp.

Teyla let him go, standing quickly and fussing over John for just a moment before she turned to the confused Shaman. "Our people will arrive very soon in a ship, a flying machine that will allow us to take John home without walking. They are bringing medics, skilled healers and equipment that will provide John much needed medical aid. We are so grateful for your wisdom and medicines. You are a skilled healer, you have certainly saved his life while we waited. You are in our debt and we will repay your kindness in any way we can."

The Shaman frowned, unimpressed with her formal thanks. "You will take him home? You are leaving?"

Teyla nodded, tilting her head at the question, "Yes. We can offer him advanced medical care back at our home."

The Shaman shook his head in great concern. "I must finish the Dream Serum. I must taper the medicine back once the venom begins to subside."

"Our people have other medicines that will accomplish the same goals."

"You don't understand. You must complete treatment with THIS medicine. Do your people know how much he has received? Do they know how much yet to give? Can they see when the tide turns against the venom? Do they know how to spread the final doses so that he will not suffer the harmful effects of sudden withdrawal?"

It was Teyla's turn to frown. She was just beginning to understand the commitment she'd made when she allowed the Shaman to give John the Dream Serum. The Shaman was urgent with sincerity; Teyla had trusted him to this point. Was she to simply ignore his warning and offer of continued expertise simply because her own people had arrived?

She was still chewing her lip with indecision when a burst of activity at the leather flap drew everyone's attention to the door. Teyla took a deep breath, preparing for the next battle.

Colonel Carter, Dr. Keller, another medic that Teyla didn't know by name and Rodney all entered the room, carrying medical bags, equipment and a stretcher. Teyla strode towards them and couldn't keep the smile of relief off her face when Dr. Keller greeted her with warm concern. She next gave a nod of respectful welcome to Colonel Carter, realizing she was still surprised at the woman's eagerness to join missions offworld. Keller immediately headed towards John, pulling out her scanner and stethoscope even as she walked. The medic was only a step behind. She saw them both share a quick alarmed glance at the bandages on his forehead and wrists, but they bent to their tasks without a comment.

"How is John?" Carter asked kindly with a worried glance at the still, pale figure under the blankets.

"His is weak and I believe he is beginning to slide into shock. You're timing is...most fortunate," Teyla answered with genuine relief, but she held out a hasty hand and hurried on with her next concern as Carter took a single step closer to the activity around the bed. "Colonel Carter, John's life was in danger from the venom. The Dolsans have a treatment that has been sustaining him, but the Shaman is very concerned that he be allowed to finish. I believe we must not take John away until the Shaman feels he has completed the treatment."

Carter pulled a double-take, suddenly focusing her fierce intelligence on Teyla's face. "You...want us to stay here?"

"Yes. I believe it is imperative we do so."

Carter looked extremely skeptical and Teyla felt her face go hard with annoyance. The Colonel was a scientist, like McKay. Would she dismiss the Shaman's medicine so completely as Rodney had done, even after all the help he had provided? Carter studied Teyla for a long moment, seeming to sum up her resolve. She nodded slightly, making no commitments yet, and walked closer to the bed to watch Dr. Keller working for a minute.

Dr. Keller had rolled John to his back and had her scanner out and working even as the medic was taking John's blood pressure with a BP cuff and stethoscope. The Shaman sat on his stool looking worried and out of place among the sudden intrusion of technology and bustle of assertive strangers. "Dr. Keller?" Carter said, the request for an update implied with the simple question.

"Teyla was right, he's in mild shock. His vitals are all off and he's running a temp of 102. Start an IV," she ordered, turning aside for a moment to give the instructions to the medic. The medic immediately pulled out a large clear bag of fluid and began to tear open a sterile package with the IV port for John's arm. "We need to stabilize his blood pressure before we move him, then I'll need to run blood tests back on Atlantis to determine what kind of venom we're dealing with here."

Teyla caught the Shaman's angry shifting as Keller mentioned moving John and she yet again shored up her determination. "We cannot move him until the Shaman completes the treatment he has begun."

Keller finished her scan and stood to face Teyla, her face curious rather than suspicious. "Do you know what your friends gave the Colonel?"

Teyla gestured to the Shaman, urging him to join them. The man rose warily and stood by Teyla, as if the two of them were squaring off against everyone else in the room. Teyla shot him an encouraging look, "Shaman, this is Dr. Keller, Colonel Carter," she indicated each in turn. "Dr. Keller is a healer, a medicine woman like you. She wishes to know about the Dream Serum."

The Shaman nodded and repeated his description in much the same way that he had explained the medicine and its effects on the body to Rodney and herself hours ago. Dr. Keller listened with polite concentration, then stood thinking, shooting quick glances at John and the medic who had nearly completed the IV.

"The Shaman believes he must administer the final doses of the medicine and taper off the amount when the venom is defeated. He mentioned withdrawal as a possible danger."

"It sounds like he has been treating him with a kind of systemic vasoconstrictor. It's the right treatment for hypotension caused by the venom. If that is the case, then I would be hesitant to administer anything of our own anyway, without knowing exactly what the interactions might be."

"I must continue monitoring the dosages to keep his body fighting. Once the venom subsides, I must then reduce the medicine gradually, or he risks the seizures again."

"Do you know how much you have already given him?" Keller asked, this time of the Shaman directly and Teyla smiled a reserved smile of relief. Dr. Keller at least was beginning to see the Shaman as knowledgeable.

"Yes. Each portion contains enough serum for an hour of strong stimulation, once the initial doses have reached full potency. I have just given him a third measure. The venom will begin to dissipate in the next hour. I must judge the remaining doses based on how quickly your friend fights off the effects and how weak he becomes with the struggle." He held up his basket of serum soaked leaves and Teyla winced at how primitive the simple medicine looked against the gleaming tools of the Atlantis professionals.

Dr. Keller nodded, then looked at Carter and shrugged. "There's not much more I could do on Atlantis. We would also just be waiting for the venom to metabolize. It wouldn't hurt to stay and treat him here, and it just might help. We at least wouldn't have to deal with withdrawal on top of the rest."

Teyla nodded in gratitude, then turned to Carter. Dr. Keller had accepted the Shaman's contribution, but the doctor would defer to Carter if the Colonel insisted on taking John home. For just an instant, Teyla wondered what Carter would do if Teyla simply refused to allow John to be taken. She knew the village hunters would support their Shaman if he asked them to stop the Atlantians. The thought shocked her and she wondered at her daring. Could she really risk her entire future with Atlantis' command to keep John here? With a surprising certainty, she answered herself: Yes, if John's life were at stake, she would risk even her place on Atlantis to do what was best for him. He had done no less for her, more than once, and she envied him the ease with which he seemingly made those decisions.

Carter thought for only a moment longer. "Do what you think is best, Teyla," she said. "Rodney said John gave you authority to call the shots on his behalf."

Blinking in surprise, Teyla could only answer as quickly as her shock allowed, "We must let the Shaman complete his treatment. But I'm certain he would allow Dr. Keller to do whatever else is needed to insure John's survival."

The Shaman nodded emphatically, "I would indeed appreciate the chance to learn from your healers," he said humbly.

Keller and the Shaman returned to John's side leaving Teyla standing at John's feet, feeling suddenly useless and unnecessary. She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. After a long quiet moment, she finally felt Carter studying her and she turned to meet the gaze, stiffening under the scrutiny. Carter smiled quickly and held out a hand to hold Teyla's arm in reassurance.

"You've done well, Teyla. Rodney told me there was trouble with the hunters and that you talked John down off a rather high delusional ledge."

Teyla frowned with amused puzzlement. "He told you all that in the time it took you to walk here from the jumper?"

Carter's mouth twitched and she raised her eyebrow at McKay who was pacing behind the medic, looking like he was about to either pick a fight, or collapse on the ground with worry. "McKay talks really fast," she said, a chuckle in her tone. "You've had a rough go of it, the last month," Carter went on, her voice more serious. "Your whole team has. I hope...well, I hope you know how much I admire you all. How much I envy you even."

Teyla was surprised at the wistfulness in the Colonel's tone and she was shocked to see a flicker of sadness on Carter's face. The moment of regret quickly passed and she sighed in concern as she looked at John again. "I hope he pulls through. Don't tell John, but I sortof like having the guy around."

"As do I," Teyla answered and she smiled to herself. Carter may be in command of Atlantis, John's direct superior, and more experienced than all of them put together. But even she was coming under John's influence, under the charm of his easygoing trust. He had summed her up, given her his allegiance and despite conflicts that she knew were certain to arise, he would bind her to him as they all were bound. In effect, he'd added her to his growing family. Teyla decided thoughtfully that perhaps she should trust John's wisdom in such matters and simply accept Carter as he did.

They stood together in quiet vigil as Keller and the Shaman bent their heads together in deep discussion, Keller listening to the Shaman's intuitive understandings of what he was doing and had done, Keller repeating the information back for him in clinical terms, translating for herself as much as for the Shaman's education. After many minutes of conversation, Keller ordered several more prescriptions and, working together, they held John to life.

Only a half hour after Carter and Keller arrived, Ronon and the field medics jogged into the village finding themselves in no way disappointed that their arduous trek had been ultimately in vain. The medics wearily unloaded their gear in the Shaman's hut, then gathered to wait in the jumper for the return trip. Ronon would not be satisfied until he looked in on John himself, only then allowing the exhaustion of his 5 hour run to claim him. He collapsed against the wall within sight of the healers gathered around John. Five minutes later, he was snoring softly.

Another hour passed. Then another. Teyla dozed. Carter came and went, allowing the jumper to take the tired medics back to Atlantis, returning again to wait for the time when John could be taken home safely. Rodney paced, then joined Teyla and Ronon against the wall. Keller and the Shaman never wavered in their care. Finally losing track of time, Teyla fell deeply asleep against Ronon's shoulder who was himself deeply asleep.

She woke to a gentle nudge on her shoulder and blinked to see Dr. Keller squatting in front of her, poking next at Ronon and then Rodney who was sagging against Teyla's shoulder also asleep.

"How is John!" Teyla blurted out, unable to read the doctor's expression, sudden anxious worry clutching her heart.

Keller waited just long enough to be sure she had the full attention of all three of them, "The Shaman believes that the venom has been purged, to use his words. He has entrusted me with the leaves and I'm sure I know how to administer the rest."

"Will he be OK? Is he alright!" Rodney asked, just as bleary as Teyla felt, but she was grateful the question had been asked.

"He's not out of the woods yet, but... I think he'll pull through. He'll be OK." A smile finally found Dr. Keller's lips and Teyla sighed in relief.

"Thank you," she whispered, managing to convey both her thanks in the doctor's care and in her willingness to listen to the Shaman.

"You're welcome. You made the right call by the way. Colonel Sheppard wouldn't have survived without the vasoconstrictor at that critical moment." She held out her hand and heaved Teyla to her feet, then put her hand on Teyla's arm. "Come on. It's time to take him home."


	6. Chapter 6

Teyla and Ronon nodded to each other, and saluted with the sticks in Athosian fashion, then quietly began putting their equipment away. Teyla wiped her face with her towel, then stuffed it into her bag, eager to check on John and see how he felt today. She paused impatiently at the door, then struck out quickly for the infirmary onceRonon joined her.

"Think I'll be able to stand him today?" Ronon asked, only half-jokingly. Teyla swatted him playfully.

"He has been in pain, Ronon. He's allowed to feel a bit...grumpy if he wants to."

"Grumpy is one thing. Grumpy is cute, or so I overheard one of the nurses say. Every time I've visited him he's been a royal pain in the - "

"He has not been that bad, Ronon."

"Not to you, maybe. You're the only one he can stand to be around. I don't know how you do it, but you're pretty good around people in pain."

Teyla smiled at the backhanded compliment, certain that she heard a bit of jealousy in Ronon's voice. They had brought John home from the Dolsan's planet three days ago - well, three days plus last night - and while the systemic effects of the insect's venom had faded quickly enough, the pain of the bite and inflamed sensitivity of the skin over a large area of John's back had remained.

"Maybe if you tried some sympathy instead of insults, John would feel more...welcoming?"

Ronon seemed to think it over. "Nah. I understand. If the guy feels like stangfodder, he doesn't want us sitting around looking at him feeling like stangfodder. I wouldn't."

"Then let us hope you never end up feeling that way, because I now know a sure way to annoy you."

"Except you don't annoy Sheppard."

Teyla gave Ronon a sly sidelong look and raised her eyebrow. "Perhaps that is because I _choose _not to annoy him."

Ronon guffawed heartily and they turned the last corner before the doors of the infirmary opened up before them. Just inside, well away from the quiet corner where John lay, Rodney was standing on bouncing toes and kept ducking his head for furtive looks deeper into the wing. Teyla andRonon stopped, exchanged a puzzled look, then turned to McKay, the question clear in their expressions.

"Oh good, Teyla you're here. You can go first," he said ignoring their amusement.

"Go where first?"

"Go see Sheppard first. Come back and tell us if he's human yet."

Teyla threw up her hands in exasperation, "He has NOT been that bad, Rodney. Go to him yourself. He will be pleased to see you."

Rodney shook his head, "Hardly. Yesterday he told me he'd hold me down and force feed me his lemon Jell-O if I didn't go away."

Teyla frowned. The threat hardly seemed in character. But then again... "What were you bugging him about, Rodney?"

"What! Who says I was bugging him. The man's a menace when he's in pain. I ask him a simple question and he goes all action-figure Rambo on me." Teyla andRonon just stared. Ronon cocked his hip. Rodney began to fidget, then he broke under the calm scrutiny. "Ok, I asked him to sign a requisition for a jumper so I could fly to the mainland and surprise Katie."

Teyla rolled her eyes and Rodney was immediately defensive, "Lorne said no! How else was I going to get permission?"

"You tried to go around the acting chain of command by pestering a sick man, Rodney," Teyla chided.

"I would've threatened real lemons," Ronon said, then promptly turned his back and strode towards John's bed.

Rodney followed him, muttering indignantly, but Teyla held back, looking around for Dr. Keller. She finally spotted the woman working at her laptop on her favorite infirmary station. Teyla smiled and walked over.

"Hi, Teyla!" Dr. Keller smiled, pushing back her chair with a long stretch. "You here to cheer up our favorite Oscar the Grouch?"

Teyla started to answer, then cocked her head at the bizarre question and Keller suddenly laughed. "Sorry! Sorry. It's a character from a children's program. My nephew watches it all the time. Just... never mind." Keller gave up with embarrassed amusement, then folded her hands in her lap. "You're here to see Colonel Sheppard."

Teyla grinned. "Yes, how is he feeling today?" Despite her admonitions to her teammates, Teyla had discovered that she was unlikely to get any true information out of John, and had taken to checking in with Dr. Keller before her visits to get a second opinion each day.

"The pain seems much better. We seem to have found an analgesic that helps, finally. The venom's effect is resistant to not only morphine, but most everything else we've tried to throw at it. And Colonel Sheppard won't take any of the really good narcotics," she sighed, then looked at Teyla with mischievouscomraderie. "Which is too bad. They'd knock him out, even if it didn't actually help the pain."

Teyla sighed. Apparently John HAD been as bad as everyone seemed to be telling her. Keller chuckled, "He IS much better today. He's been sleeping a lot actually. I think the pain has been keeping him from as much rest as he needs to fully recover. He'll improve much faster now, I suspect, after a full day and night's sleep."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Thank you for coming around so much. The nurses were casting lots on who had to come in yesterday..."

Teyla sighed again, then headed toward John's bed. She peeked her head around the corner of the privacy screens that the staff had placed between the bed and the rest of the room, curious to see how John behaved around the others when she was not present. He was sitting against a pile of pillows with the bed tilted upright, his arm that wasn't encumbered with IVs and medical tape propped comfortably behind his head. He looked more relaxed than she'd seen him look in three days. This time her sigh was of relief and she stepped around the screen with a warm smile.

John smiled back, looking sleepy but happy.

"Look who's back!" Rodney exclaimed, pointing at John's chest and sounding equally happy. "Evil Sheppard has departed and returned the real Lt. Colonel John 'Not-psycho' Sheppard to his rightful place."

Ronon grinned at her too, missing John's sudden frown of consternation at McKay's teasing statement. "Hey, guys. I don't _actually_ remember very much about the last few days, but...I wasn't that bad. Was I?"

Ronon and Rodney exchanged significant looks, but Teyla hastily jumped in with, "Of course not, John. You have just been very sick, and understandably...grumpy." She finished with a defiant glare atRonon who was suppressing vast amusement.

Instead of being reassured, John just groaned with embarrassment and covered his face with his free hand. "Oh no. Not grumpy. Anything but _grumpy_." He split his fingers and peeked out at Ronon from between them. "I really do owe you an apology, then. Don't I."

Ronon shrugged it off, "Nah. Just get better. You still owe me that rematch."

John nodded, then sagged into the pillows, looking terrified at the thought.

"Hey, don't you owe me an apology, too?" Rodney beamed.

John rolled his head to study Rodney for a long moment. "No," he said, and closed his eyes.

"Let's go, McKay," Ronon stood up from where he'd propped his hip against John's bed and grabbed Rodney's jacket front, hustling the indignant scientist in front of him. "I'll come by later, Sheppard,"Ronon called, and then he was gone.

Teyla watched them go, claiming Ronon's spot on the edge of the bed. John lay quite still for a long time, then he yawned and looked at Teyla, the smile in his eyes reflecting the one on her face. "Do I owe you an apology too?" he asked softly.

"Not at all. But apparently, I am unique in that category."

John grimaced and flopped his hand onto the bed.

"Can I get you anything?" Teyla asked to distract him.

"Some...sugar?"

"Sugar?" Teyla wondered, confused.

"Yeah. My new medicine, the only painkiller that works on Dolsan scorpion venom, is a bit bitter." He waved his arm at the nearly empty cup resting on the bedside table. Sudden understanding brought a surprised grin to her face.

"Dolsan Tea?"

John also grinned and nodded. "Right in one."

"I will be happy to bring you some sugar, John."

This time when John nodded, he blinked sleepily and closed his eyes again. She watched him for a moment, sudden curiosity overcoming her. He did seem much better, more relaxed, but Teyla still saw the strain of pain around his eyes. It was not gone, just manageable. What she did not see was the irritable distancing, and she wondered at the change; especially after all he'd been through.

"What?" John asked, without opening his eyes. "You're looking at me funny again."

"Can I ask you a question, John?"

He hesitated, then said noncommittally, "You can ask."

"Are you...well? I have been concerned about you since we fought the crystal entity. You have seemed - preoccupied - lately."

"You noticed, huh?"

"Of course," Teyla answered, waiting.

A long, uncomfortable moment passed, then John sighed, as if trying to muster his courage, but still he hesitated.

Teyla finally decided to prompt him. "John, do you still blame yourself for Kate's death?"

Surprisingly, he answered easily, "Yes and no. I mean I'll always feel responsible, but in the end, it's that thing that really did it."

He seemed sincere, so Teyla was puzzled, "Then, what has been bothering you?"

"I..." He took a deep breath and plunged in, "When that thing was in my own head, I saw malice and hatred, I saw pure violence and...it looked just like me."

"I don't understand."

"I don't either, really. It just really creeped me out. I started to wonder if it actually was me, if the creature had seen something in here that was...real."

Teyla thought she might just be starting to understand. John had seen something in the creature that was all too familiar. She knew that everyone carried a dark spot, a place where violence and cruelty lurked. Most people were good, though - she believed - and lived with the darkness deeply buried. John, however, had seen that darkness face to face - literally with his own face. It surprised her that he was so insecure of his own good that he could be so shaken by that encounter. It suddenly made her wonder what darkness he had in his past that caused such insecurity, what darkness the creature had been able to feed upon.

"The creature was evil, John. It fed on our fears, exploited the worst inside us simply for its pleasure."

"And that's what scared me. I didn't like what it found to exploit."

Teyla was about to argue for reassurance when she caught the implication of his statement. He'd said _scared,_ past tense. "And now?" she asked, suddenly guessing at his answer and realizing the reason that he was finally seeming himself.

John's voice was low and hesitant when he finally replied, treading on emotional territory that was difficult for him to express, "When Iguel said the venom made people go mad and violent, it was like the creature was back but I was it, and this time the nightmare was real. When I had that gun pointed at Iguel and you stepped in front of me - Don't EVER do that again, by the way! Do you hear me?!" John distracted himself with righteous indignation for a moment and Teyla feigned a contrite expression that seemed to satisfy him.

"I promise," she answered insincerely, then prompted with, "When you had the gun pointed at Iguel...?"

John sighed, "I had the gun on him and the pain was so god-awful bad, and I was absolutely certain for some crazy reason that it was his fault, that he could stop it. There was nothing left but pain and rage and I wanted to shoot, to kill him and make it stop. I almost did it, to tell the truth, and then..."

"You didn't," Teyla said, in a soft whisper. She had seen the struggle in his eyes.

"Yeah!" he said and she heard the triumph in his voice that had flickered in his eyes that night. He had fought more than the pain that night, he had fought the demons of his self-doubt, and had realized that the good in him was stronger than the darkness.

"You are a good person, John Sheppard," she said, her voice teasing.

"Yeah, well - good at getting bitten by bugs," he complained sagging completely into the pillows and rubbing his forehead over closed eyes. She saw the tension of the lingering pain settling upon him and she recognized the weariness that could only be conquered by time and rest.

"You should rest," she said simply.

He only nodded, well on his way to sleep without her admonition. Teyla fussed over his blankets for moment, then sat simply watching him drift off and thinking. She too had faced her own demons that night, she admitted. John may trust her unconditionally, but she would have to prove herself to the others, and perhaps even to herself. She would arrange a visit with Colonel Carter immediately, she decided, to discuss some more ways she wished to contribute to Atlantis mission. With a final pat, she slipped off John's bed and quietly headed towards the entrance.

"Don't forget...sugar," John mumbled sleepily before she was out of earshot.

"I will not forget. Sleep well."

As she walked away, she thought again about the people that John had bound to him. She imagined a set of invisible strings that connected each of them to him and began to see the web widen as that solid foundation began to weave them also to each other. But still, at the center was John. As long as they had him...

Atlantis was finally beginning to feel like home, again.

* * *

Author's Idle comment: If you're interested, (I'm sure you're not..) the venom John was suffering from was very similar to that of stonefish poison. Nasty, nasty, but without the tissue damage associated with most snake venom. Thanks for reading... 


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